A Terminal Affair
by Shadow-Ocelot
Summary: The courier decides to send out a message via her computer terminal, not expecting to ever get a reply, but when she does she's elated. However, soon she begins to wonder if her new 'friend' is closer than she originally thought. Courier/House
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer Don't own Fallout.

Author's Notes There's not enough House-fic on this site. This must be remedied. **  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>A Terminal Affair<strong>

**1**

The robot with the face of a cowboy greeted the travel-weary courier as she climbed the steps outside the brightly lit Lucky 38 casino. Long before she had even neared the gates of New Vegas she had seen the roulette wheel shaped building glowing in the distance. To some it must look like the beacon of a lighthouse, guiding the lost souls of the Mojave. She supposed, in a way, it was fitting for it was the home of a man who proclaimed to want to save mankind, albeit if that way was at a cost. It irked her that he was a particular man when it came to those that he let inside his glittering paradise. Walking through Freeside to get home always broke her heart, because she always felt guilty that she was on her way to a comfortable, safe home. Did it even bother House that those outside his heavily guarded Strip were starving and dying? Sometimes she wondered if he was lying to her just to get her to work for him, using her reputation as a philanthropist to manipulate her.

With more emotion than she felt she smiled back at the securitron and inclined her head, "hey, Victor." She didn't even wait for a reply before heading inside. The lights were already blazing on the main floor, prompting her to squint her eyes against the harsh florescent rays. After plodding through the desert darkness the electricity in the casino was a little much for her retinas. When she faced Victor once again at the elevator he inquired upon her destination, likely expecting her to choose the Penthouse, for that was her usual after being gone for a period of time. Tonight she was too tired, too dusty, and too filled with dread to face the man upstairs. "Uh, not right now. I'll go up after I shower. Have to look presentable, don't I?"

She tried to sound chipper about the whole thing, but even the mere thought of having to talk to House tonight at all made her stomach churn in unpleasant anticipation. He would not be pleased. Not that he ever was.

"Just don't forget now!" Victor chirped. "The boss's been mighty worried about your whereabouts the last few days. I'm sure he's appreciate if you called on him."

Claire's lip twitched. By 'mighty worried about her whereabouts' she was sure it meant that he was upset with how long it was taking her to get back with some kind of news about Benny. She could still remember the fury in House's voice when he had let her know how he felt about her letting Benny escape… with the chip. House didn't care about Benny at all one way or another, but he _did_ care that his ex-protégé to be was still in possession of his platinum grail. Given the circumstances she hadn't blamed him at the time, even going so far as to admit that she'd been an idiot. However, after some private thought, she'd determined she didn't like the way he'd handled it. House was supposed to be the professional here, and he was barely holding onto the precipice of control while he missed the big point: she had been trying to do the right thing.

"Oh, I won't." Claire didn't know how she could forget a thing like that.

XXX

By the time Claire had finished her soak in the tub she was feeling rather relaxed. She'd tried to put Mr. House out of her mind for the duration and that hadn't been hard. Thinking about him while bathing (_naked_) would have been uncomfortable for more reasons than just the thought of what verbal abuse he had planned for her. Actually thinking about _any_ man while naked had always been an uncomfortable undertaking. It wasn't that she was a prude; it just felt like an invasion of privacy – both for herself and the man in question. Yet the second she emerged from the bathroom she was reminded of the trip upstairs she was to take by spotting Victor waiting by the elevator and sighed, deflated.

She immediately dressed despite the urge to just curl up in bed and fall asleep and then rode the elevator up to the Penthouse. Like she had feared, and known, House was in a state, and that state wasn't Nevada.

"I see you took your time getting here." No hello. No how was your trip or I hope the fiends didn't try to take your head off. It was right to the point. She was late, and not only was she late, but she had kept him waiting even longer by making a personal detour.

Claire crossed her arms over her chest. "I went to take a shower. I've been on the road for days so I thought it would be nice to freshen up before I tracked dirt all over your suite." It was a rational explanation, one that involved her thinking of him before herself instead of just wanting to avoid the whole thing altogether. Maybe somewhere in her words he'd find enough to move on and forget about it.

"It would have been nice to know the current status of my property in a timely manner, Miss Stokes. As you should know _dust_ is the least of my worries."

The Courier kept her composure as calm as she could manage. She never knew if House could see her or only hear her during these visits, but she wasn't going to chance it. "The status of your property is still the same as it was before as far as I know. Benny still has it. I have not confirmed if he's reached Caesar's Fort yet. However, he was spotted a few days ago at the 188 Trading post."

"Knowing where he was and knowing where he is are two different things. It doesn't help us in the least. I will assume that you haven't followed my orders and been to the Fort."

"No, but I thought if I could catch Benny before I—"

"From now on do not think." House interrupted her. His tone sounded tired, as if he were a parent dealing with a child. "I know it might be hard for you to understand such simple logic as what I have laid down for you, but it is imperative we handle this with care. We can't afford to lose that chip."

"_You_ can't afford to lose that chip." There, Claire said it. The bitter taste of her words coated her tongue like bile. As soon as it was out she wished she could put it back in. Anger was the last thing that would earn her any respect in this place.

"Excuse me?"

"_I_ don't need the fucking thing." Claire continued, rage still boiling up even through her promise that she wasn't going to let House's ego get the best of her while working for him. She had been forced to deal with people just as bad and had survived, but something about him got under her skin, something that made her want to find him, scream at him, and then throttle him within an inch of his life. Potential, yes, it was potential. House had the ability to be doing so many wondrous things, instead he was barking orders and making assumptions about the rest of the world based on comparisons to his world, his _dead _world. She couldn't take it anymore. "I never needed it. All I wanted was answers, and then I got them. I only stayed around because I believed in what you were trying to do. But I won't stand around and be talked down to. It's easy for someone like you to tell someone like me what to do. You think you're smarter than me, but I guarantee that if you had to walk out that door and do half the things I've had to do to get your precious little chip back you wouldn't last a second."

There was silence. She knew that wherever Robert House was he was fuming. Maybe House wasn't the only one to get under people's skin. Maybe Claire did it, too. She knew she wasn't perfect, and she knew she was nowhere near as intelligent as House was. That still didn't grant him to right to talk to her the way he did. With a growl of frustration at the lack of a response she rolled her eyes and took to the stairs, two at a time.

"Where are you going?" So he could see her.

Claire stopped at the sound of House's voice, but did not turn around. "I'm going to bed. It's been a long day and I don't feel like dealing with this shit. I'd advise considering if you want me to continue working for you after today because trust me, I will be doing the same…"

"You can't just—"

"I can do whatever I want!" She shouted, spinning at the screen that was below her. She felt silly screaming at a computer, but with the lack of a physical person to take her anger out on it would have to do. "Unless you decide to send your glorified metal dogs after me." She meant his securitrons. "I know you won't come for me yourself. _You never do anything yourself._" The last was said under her breath, although she was sure whatever equipment he had installed would likely be able to pick up on it. She didn't care.

House said no more, whether it was because he was done speaking to her for the night or because she didn't give him a chance. Ten seconds later she was in the elevator again and if she could have slammed the doors she would have.

XXX

A paperweight hurled across the room and hit the wall beside the bed. The sharp thwack gave Claire a deep satisfaction that some sort of violence had been enacted in the name of her displeasure. It bounced on the floor a couple times before coming to a stop near one of the wardrobes. She clenched and unclenched her fists, considering picking up something else and throwing it, too, but between the time she thought of it and started scanning the room for that something else the adrenaline had started to fade and was leaving her exhausted. She dropped into her chair at the desk and leaned back, eyes focusing on point on the ceiling.

"I'm okay." She told no one in particular, as she took in a shaky breath to calm herself further. Whether she was actually okay or not was still up for debate. Most people had arguments with their employers, but most people didn't have a centuries old genius and visionary to work with. Neither did they have to worry about being thrown out onto the street and making an enemy of a man who tore his enemies asunder with brilliant prowess. Coming off her rage-high she realized just what she'd done. "Fuck."

A voice in her head reminded her that House wasn't a man that dabbled in revenge. That sort of barbarity was below him. Then another voice chipped in, quoting terminal entries from his half-brother's computer. No, House could take revenge when he wanted, especially when he felt like something that was his had been taken away. House would have his justice in those cases. The Platinum chip was important to him, probably more important than that damned inheritance his brother had stolen from him. By saying she was thinking of refusing to help him where had she placed herself in his eyes?

_Wow, Claire, you really are dumb._ She told herself. A dry, caustic laugh bubbled up as she ran her fingers through her hair, gripping and pulling at the long strands. Still, it felt good to finally tell him off. She hadn't kept track of how long she had worked for him, but it had grown increasingly difficult to deal with him the longer the chip remained outside of his hands and no amount of telling him how hard she was trying to get it back would persuade him that she wasn't doing anything other than sitting on her ass twiddling her thumbs.

In an attempt to get her mind off the night she flipped through the files on her pip-boy and booted up the computer on the desk. Over the last few weeks she'd found a way to copy her files from one device to the other and had begun backing up all the important information she came across on her travels. Perhaps she could get some more work done in respect to organizing those files. When the screen came up she began going through the saved documents and programs.

Like usual she found herself drawn to the old mail messages there were still saved there. One of her favorite pastimes was reading old terminal entries. She'd never get to meet the people that had sent those messages, but her imagination could weave together stories of what they might have been like and what kind of things were going on in their lives when those messages were sent. She'd never tried to send a message before, mostly because there was no point. Who was there to read them now-a-days?

Out of curiosity she pulled up a new message screen and watched as the cursor blinked in the body section. **Is there anyone who can read this? – C. P.S. I really need someone to talk to.** She typed. It amused her to see her own messages from time to time, almost like she could somehow connect to someone out there, or perhaps pretend that she was a normal person who had someone waiting on a reply from her. _Like in a normal job._ She'd seen messages on terminals across the Mojave from the Crimson Caravan to the NCR offices where men were still sending mail back and forth via computer. It seemed… constructive.

It also seemed affirming. There was always someone on the other end of those messages. They were always replied to in a timely matter. If anything the men and women who wrote those messages always knew there was someone else to talk to, even if it was just business. After the night she'd had she was feeling the weight of her isolation even more than usual. It was all right when she was out there in the desert running around. Out there she ran into people, could strike up conversations, and be temporarily forgetful that she had no one out there waiting on her – except House. House was always there, but he was little more than a face on a screen and a voice that was more often than not irritated or cold.

_He was still a person, though. Still someone to talk to, even if he thinks you're stupid._ She tabbed the cursor up to the subject line now and input "Hello?" into the space. For a moment she leaned back again and stared at the words on the screen and the neat square boxes. Everything in its place and a place for everything.

Finally she tabbed up some more into the recipient section and a list of addresses that had previously been mailed to came up. She chose every single one of them and then studied the long list. She smiled at the thought of having that many friends or acquaintances. She used to know that many people, but that was before she had left for the Mojave. Back before she had abandoned her old life.

She sighed and finally tabbed over to the text option that read "delete message." Right next to it was "Send." Her hands hovered for an instant as she bit her lip, thinking, and then she hit the arrow key over and enter. A little mail icon appeared for the count of ten seconds, after which the words "Message Sent!" appeared.

Her heart thrummed in her chest and she was aware of just how strongly her blood was pulsing through her veins. Excitement flooded her system as she imagined an inbox of replies from people long gone, traveled through time, curious about the digital visitor that had entered their world. Then she laughed. It was silly. Nobody out there would ever read her message. A reply would never come.

But it was always nice to dream.

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed. I kind of wrote this in one sitting while taking a break from thinking about my other fics and thought to go ahead and post and see if anyone was interested.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Function**: Aww. I'm so happy that you are enjoying the story. It always means something when I hit a personal chord with someone. But sadface as to why. Yet I know exactly how that feels, too. So you're not alone out there. I send you much hugs! :)

**KenzjeGirl**: Thanks so much! I definitely hope it goes somewhere great!

And for those that have favorited and alerted me on this story, thank you, too. Its nice to see my familiar readers on each of my stories. Even if I do have a lot. Lol. Continue to enjoy guys! You're all full of awesome.

* * *

><p><strong>A Terminal Affair<strong>

**2**

The Courier had been gone for almost a week this time with no word. Her extended trips into the Mojave weren't much to be concerned with, for she was a busy girl, or she had _better_ be considering what the two of them had on the line with their work. No, it was the complete absence of the usual tales of her exploits that was putting the proprietor of New Vegas on edge. She had no way to contact him with reports whilst she was out in the field, but he had found it unnecessary as she seemed to make it a point to almost scream her position at every juncture by her actions. Sometimes the stories amused him as he listen via securitrons to the passing gamblers talk about 'that courier' for her ingenuity and diplomacy was surely working a strange magic across the previous dull and lifeless region. Other times he found it unbearable that she would stop and waste her time with such trivial matters while she should be in the pursuit of his chip.

He wasn't so much concerned for her this time as he was suspicious of the lack of updates he was receiving. No small little town had been rescued at the last minute from raiders or thieves, no caravans protected, not even the occasional sighting of her. His immediate thoughts went straight to the conclusion that she was likely keeping under the radar on purpose. It was probably no secret that he kept tabs on her even while she wasn't inside the Strip, and lately she had grown increasingly hard to deal with, even secretive and vague when it came to certain things. He didn't appreciate this in the slightest. If she was to work for him then he must have complete disclosure about her travels and whatever news she might have about her search for the item Benny had stolen. It wasn't as if she didn't know the importance of what he was doing here. He had told her countless numbers of times, drilled it into her head.

It was a few hours after dark on the sixth day of her trip that Victor informed him that Miss Stokes had returned and would be coming up to see him after she made a stop off at her suite. What was so important that it could not wait for her to give him the latest? Perhaps if he had had some kind of inclination of her movements beforehand he wouldn't have been so irritated at her. Or the fact that she never kept him waiting before. No matter how tired or how late she came in the first place she had always went was up to the Penthouse to speak with him. What was the difference this time? Yes, he was quite sure she was trying to avoid him. He just couldn't figure out if it was because he was slowly losing her loyalty (if he even had it in the first place; it was hard to tell these days), or if he was just making something out of nothing.

House sincerely doubted he was imagining things. He wasn't the kind of man to succumb to flights of fantasy. Rationale and logic were practically his middle names, and he didn't jump to conclusions about situations this close to home. Paranoid people searched out indications of guilt. He was not paranoid. Cautious yes, and no one would blame him for that after everything in his life, especially the latest betrayal by Benny, but not paranoid.

When his impromptu employee finally appeared before him she was freshly bathed, hair still moist and uncombed around her face. The words "its about time" weren't exactly used, but the sentiment was hard to hide within his tone and choice of statement. The following conversation didn't improve much from there, in fact it got worse, reaching its peak when she not so subtlety threatened to quit and leave everything to chance.

For nearly two hundred years he hadn't missed his human body, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to grab her and pin her against the wall and force her to understand just how childish she was being. And having one of his securitrons do it would not only defeat the purpose (which would be partially his own satisfaction of putting her in her place) but would also prove that her words were exactly right.

_"I know you won't come for me yourself. You never do anything yourself." _

Her words were on repeat in his brain. _He_ knew exactly why he needed someone else out there doing his work for him. It wasn't because he was lazy or unable to like he suspected she thought, but because he literally _couldn't_ go out there. Twice in one day now she'd made him wish for his body to be back to normal again so he could just walk out the front door and go find Benny himself. That would show her she wasn't dealing with some eccentric shut-in intent on making others do his dirty work. Finding Benny and getting the Platinum chip back would kill two birds with one stone, the first being to put a stop to her assumptions about him being some soft pre-war gentleman unable to cope in the new world, and the second… well, he wouldn't mind looking Benny in the face. He told himself he was above violence, but the thought of giving him one nice punch to the jaw was very tempting.

It wouldn't hurt to think about such things as long as he kept himself above actually _doing_ them.

His guest however was apparently _not_ above violence. When he checked in on her via a camera feed in the presidential suite she was deep in the throes of an angry fit that nearly left a hole in the wall. That didn't help his feelings for her at the moment. Destroying property, whether intentional or unintentional, only served to fuel more animosity towards her actions. Despite that he admitted that the anger she was feeling mirrored his own and if put in her situation he might have done something similar, if not more carefully. His beloved Lucky 38 was _not_ the right place to throw a tantrum. Watching her helped his anger none. He knew he should find something to distract himself from wanting to grab her pretty little throat and squeeze but couldn't drag his attention away from the feed.

For the third time he thought of his existence within the Lucky 38 and how that is how he would remain from that time on. She was a constant reminder of a life, of a world, that he would not walk in again – at least for a very long time. In a way he was resentful of her for this, for once he had considered himself an adventurous type, not just in the field of science but in the world in general. He'd been almost everywhere in the world, and despite his love of Las Vegas, had considered them to be fun and exciting trips. The Mojave had become like a new location he'd never traveled, full of people he'd never seen, a new culture to be explored and studied. She was part of that world, walked its street each day, and he was here, the silent and neutral observer. Much like God he watched over his home, but unlike God he had limits to that which he could experience.

_Ridiculous_. Finally the feed went black and he turned to something else, unable to watch her anymore. He was watching her like some sort of peeping tom, albeit not in a perverse manner. In the maelstrom created by their argument he was devolving irrationally. So what he couldn't walk amongst them? They were nothing more than uneducated, ungrateful cretins. There was nothing fascinating that he could find among them unless he counted shocked incredulity at their ignorance. Claire Stokes was the greatest example of that ignorance. She was shortsighted, arrogant, and frustratingly small-minded. He was missing nothing by being in here, in fact his immortality put him even further up above those outside. He'd outlast every single one of them and change the face of this world.

With or without Claire.

XXX

Not long after House switched off the feeds from the presidential suite he powered his systems down to standby for some time to recharge. It was the closest to sleep he got since being placed in the stasis chamber that had prolonged his life. When the cycle was complete he 'woke' to find a surprising alert in the network cache. He'd made sure every terminal within the Lucky 38 had been incorporated into his networks. Before the final battle of the war that tore the world into pieces he had cut off the system from the outside except for his own, which would be necessary to keep contact with his other sites. The message that now appeared told him that this was something that the courier had not figured out yet or considered.

**From: Terminal 292-A (Location: Presidential Suit)**

**To:** _Here there was a long list of addresses and locations as if someone had chosen everything available._

**Subject: Hello?**

**Is there anyone who can read this? **

– **C. **

**P.S. I really need someone to talk to.**

House actually laughed at this. What a pathetic attempt for communication. Who just sent out a message to the masses with no idea where it was going? The Courier, that was who. It just emphasized the point he was thinking to himself the night before and how ignorant she was when it came to the workings of the world.

Still… after a little thought he concluded that this could play in his favor. He had seen the way she was open with even strangers. If he could somehow strike up a dialogue with her and keep her from knowing who she was talking to she might reveal important information she might not otherwise, at least to him. At this point describing their relationship as "strained" was putting it nicely. She needed someone fresh to talk to, someone she didn't already have negative, angry feelings towards. It might take a little bit of time to completely earn her trust and get what he needed from her, but if that was one think he knew about himself it was that he was a patient man.

The only hitch was making sure she stayed around long enough to begin that dialogue in the first place. He sent an order to Victor to request Miss Stokes' presence in the penthouse after she woke. They'd have a talk, and if need be he'd apologize for the argument the night before. It wasn't too far of a stretch for he'd determined that even though he was right he should have known better to talk to someone like her in the manner he did. She just didn't have it in her to see the situation as he did, automatically setting the conversation up to fail. He would have to try new tactics with her from that day forward to ensure she stayed in his employ.

While he waited for her to stir he went about a reply to her cry for company.

XXX

The muscles in her neck ached and the chair creaked as Claire sat up. Rubbing the back of her neck she realized she'd fallen asleep in her chair while working on the contents of her pip-boy. The disagreement with House had faded into a nightmare, leaving her to question whether it had really happened or not, but the paperweight that lay haphazardly on the floor let her know that it hadn't just been a dream. A yawn broke out, prompting her to climb up from her chair and plod out of her bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom where she splashed her face with cool water. When she came out she was halted by Victor.

"Good morning, Miss! Mr. House wants to see you upstairs when you find the time."

_When I find the time?_ Claire lifted an eyebrow at the metal cowboy. "I think I'm going to be busy all day today. It might have to wait." She waited for the sly smirk to cross her face until after she'd turned away and walked back to her room.

A few seconds later, and after Victor's screen seemed to shimmer as if having some sort of interference he added. "He says if you can find the time, please."

Claire's mouth quirked up into a thoughtful expression. "I'll see if I can rearrange my schedule." With that she shut her door. She fully intended to go up and talk to him now, mostly because of the newest development of some kind of manners concerning her boss instead of the usual order-giving. She was highly interested to see what he had to say. He was either going to try to appeal to her kind nature and use nice words or he was just being cordial until he could get her upstairs and then he was going to berate her again. She'd have to see once she got up there. Either way seemed worth it at the moment since she had brought him down a level by forcing him to use the word '_please._'

She shrugged out of her clothes. She hadn't meant to sleep in them, but she hadn't meant to fall asleep while working either. It was nice to feel the air on her naked skin as she stretched out over the plush comforter and arched her back. Her joints groaned under the strain before she laid back. A few minutes of relaxing silence and she felt her muscles loosening and unknotting. Eyeing the wardrobe in the corner she thought of her clothing choices and decided upon a dress. Maybe after her talk with House she'd go over to the Tops and take a day off. Swank was always willing to make a girl feel welcome. A wicked grin met her eyes as she thought about her last visit to the other casino and home of the Chairmen. She'd given Swank the rundown on Benny's whereabouts as well that time, seeing as it was fair that he know where Benny had run off to and why. The suave new head of the Chairmen made her trip well worth it.

When enough time had passed that she felt she'd made a proper example of just how _not_ in control House was of her actions she pulled herself up and got dressed. It would teach him not to treat her like a dog that could be whistled to and called when her master wished it. She was his employee, not his slave, and it would do to remind him of that sometimes. If she wanted to be treated like a slave she'd hook up with the Legion. Caesar had already sent her an invitation, one she was sure would end with an inquiry of her allegiances. Everyone in the Mojave seemed to want her these days. But House had her loyalties – for now. If he kept up his ill treatment of her it might not stay that way for long.

However, for the time being her words the night before had been empty ones spoken out of frustration. She wouldn't leave his service at this time. House was a man who had spent a very long time not having to deal with other humans, and even when he did she was sure that he was always in complete control of everyone around him. It would be unfair to toss a chance working with him aside because of a few misunderstandings and social faux pas. She'd likely give him more than just this chance as well, resigning herself to the fact that it would take more than a few screaming matches for her to turn against him. Sadly she didn't think he understood that. Yet if he was true to his word and meant what he said about helping humankind she would do as he asked, all she asked in return was a little understanding on his part concerning what she had to go through to do those jobs for him.

Last she went to grab her pip-boy from where she'd left it on the desk the night before, plugged up to the computer. The screen on the terminal came on as she unplugged it and a flashing icon caught her eye. She tabbed through the options and chose it, curious.

Her eyes went wide when she saw the mail screen come up with a new message. Subject: re: Hello? "You have to be shitting me!" She couldn't believe it, someone had actually replied to her. There was actually someone out there to reply! Her heart beat even more furiously than it had the night before in her momentary adrenaline rush for originally sending it. She went to choose it and paused, biting her lip. House was expecting her upstairs, and although she was angry with him for last night she wasn't going to push whatever pleasant mood he seemed to be in this morning. "You!" She pointed at the screen. "I'll be _right_ back!"

She bounded to the elevator, intent on getting the meeting over with so she could see the reply. There was a chance it was just some dumb reply from an idiot messing around, but she hoped otherwise. It was more exciting to think of someone else out there like her trying to reach out to others. That's what she would believe until she finally read it. In the meantime: House.

XXX

The Courier was still sleeping when House opened up the camera feed to her room again and was surprised to see that she had fallen asleep while she worked. For an instant it reminded him somewhat of himself, especially in the earlier days of RobCo. He would stay up for hours putting the finishing touches on some project, crunching numbers, or tinkering with any number of technological gagedtry. Almost as soon as he made that connection he pushed it away. Any comparison between himself and that… _barbarian_ would be an insult. Regardless, he kept one eye on the monitor while he went about other tasks.

Claire finally awakened sometime after his morning check on what the NCR Embassy was up to and before the hourly sweep of the Strip for any signs of interest. She disappeared from her bedroom, but he did not follow her. When she returned she was trapped into a conversation with Victor about his request. At first she denied it, stating she had other plans. What bullshit. "Victor," he said, "would you please ask our dearest courier if she could _please_ find the time to come see me today?"

Victor did so and he watched her reply over the feed. The smart-alec smirk that crossed her face as she shut her door did not escape him. Victor might not have seen it, but oh he did. She was playing a game with him, the viper. Well, two can play games, and House was a man that won the majority of his. Let her have her moment, for it would be over very soon.

He realized with an inward displeasure that he was watching her again, spying. He'd never found it necessary to lower himself to such measures, but after Benny it didn't hurt to keep an eye on your employees. Although when she started to strip he knew there _was_ a limit to this kind of surveillance, where it became not a means of keeping tabs but a invasion of privacy. At the first flash of skin much lighter than that of her sun-kissed extremities he immediately switched feeds. He knew that continuing to watch would not cause any sort of excitement in him whatsoever. The human body was a matter of science, an amalgamation of flesh and limbs, and nothing to get worked up about. Still, it would serve no purpose to see her in the nude and he'd seen what he had intended to.

She would be coming upstairs soon. Just as he had calculated she would.

XXX

The bright sunlight that spilled through the windows of the Penthouse were a stark contrast to the no-windowed darkness of the presidential suite. Claire blinked as she came out of the elevator, smoothing her dress. For a moment she paused to enjoy the warm rays against her face with a sigh and then continued on. Once down the stairs the pressed the usual button to initiate conversation and stepped back, waiting for House to address her.

"You seem very dressed up for a meeting with me, Miss Stokes," House said, and now she was sure that he could see her when they spoke. She tried not to, but she smiled.

"Yes, I was planning on going over the Tops sometime today. Swank was saying how they were about to start one of the new acts that I found for them. It would be nice to see them in action. But I'm sure my dress or day plans were not why you summoned me." No. House was never so casual. This meeting had a purpose, a very specific one.

There was a short pause on the other end where she pictured him sitting back and considering his answer. She always wondered if he was stowed away somewhere at a desk, fingers steepled and brows drawn in intense thought every time they met. It wouldn't surprise her, but neither would him sitting in an armchair in a pair of pajamas. House was the keen representation of duality to her much of the time. He was a cool calm or explosively wrathful. He was controlled and thoughtful or he was impatient and rash. He was a savior or a selfish corporate head.

"I suppose you know me well enough by now to know that you're right. I called you up here to tell you how regretful I am about last night. Our discussion should have never gotten to the point where it was so heated. It was below the both of us."

"Yes, it was." Claire agreed with a gentle nod of her head, crossing her arms behind her back. She would not apologize first and so far he toed the line of it, but she wanted the words. She wanted an 'I'm sorry, Miss Stokes.' Would he actually go so far as to do so, or was he hoping she would say it first so he could just agree and they move on? "I was tired last night. I'd been walking since yesterday morning to make it back. And you seemed… preoccupied." It was the nicest way she would phrase it without just coming out and saying he was acting like a one-track minded prick.

"That I was." He admitted. "I apologize for being harsh with you. It was ill placed."

Claire's smile widened considerably, though once more she tried to hide it. This time she did so by lifting her hand to brush back some strands of hair until she could make it dwindle to something acceptable. She hoped for both of their sakes he really meant this apology. If he did then they might now have too many problems from now on, but if he was just saying it because she got angry then he would have learned nothing from her anger. Still, it was nice to hear it from him whether he meant it or not. "I'm sorry, too. I know how important this is to you and trust me I realize how important this is for the entire Mojave – the _world_ probably. This is a very convenient arrangement for both of us, Mr. House. I like it here, and I respect you. So from now on let's not fight anymore? No hard feelings?"

"None, whatsoever."

"Good. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm starving." She placed a hand on her argumentative tummy. "I would like to grab some breakfast. If you have more you would like to talk about I can come back afterward?"

"No, I believe that should be all for today. You have been running around for the past week. Enjoy a day off."

"Why, thank you. Have a pleasant day yourself." Claire responded. She had no idea what House did in his spare time. Probably something geniusy. She'd never known a man such as him before so she wouldn't even try to consider the possibilities. With nothing more to say she started up the stairs, but unlike the night before she took them slowly, giving him an opportunity to stop her if there was something else he needed. It was silence and then the flicker of the screen and the flash of the familiar words "lost connection" before everything returned to normal. House had gone. In minutes she was gone, too, the brief ding of the elevator the only evidence that any activity at all had taken place in the Penthouse. Emptiness then filled the space.

* * *

><p>I had a lot of fun writing House in this chapter. He's such a complex character. I wasn't sure what I wanted him to say to her in his reply, but I'll have something for you next chapter.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Wow, guys, just wow! I'm so happy there are other House fans out there. I didn't think I'd get this much traffic on this fic, but you sure surprised me!

**Sarana-Snape**: Thanks for the compliment. House is a tough customer to try to understand. And even I don't know yet how Claire's going to react when she learns who her new companion is, but when I get there I hope it'll be worth it!

**Eve of Destruction**: Yay :) I was worried that it would come across as just another digital romance story.

**SwankDoll**: Again, thanks for the comment about House. He was actually really awesome to write. And I hope you enjoy this chapter since its got a bit of the man who inspired your penname in it. -wink-

**KatrinaJG**: You! I totally read your story the other night and hearted it thoroughly. Its actually part of the reason I went ahead and started posting this. I was a little afraid to throw a House fic out here because I didn't know how many people would really be interested, but once I saw yours and that there are indeed more of us House lovers out there I had to add to the list. And you know, I hadn't thought of the "You've Got Mail" comparison, but you're totally right!

**FloatOn**: It means a lot to know I'm writing someone's favorite character in an acceptable way. I hope you keep enjoying the story. And House love always. :)

**DarknessDiablo**: You always crack me up. In a totally awesome way, by the way. And to answer your question it originally started out as a one-shot idea, but when I considered it I realized it had potential to be a good longer story. House is such a closed-up individual sometimes that I wondered of ways it might take to get him to open up and trust someone. The idea of the courier telling him things without knowing it was him was just too perfect.

_Free hugs and Sunset Sass for all!_

* * *

><p><strong>A Terminal Affair<strong>

**3**

Giddy little girl was not a description that most would attribute to the Courier. In fact it was the farthest thing from. Hardened expressions calculated over months of travel and a penchant for getting into trouble at the drop of a shotgun shell implied anything but femininity. It was disorienting at first, being seen as almost a unisex figure of mythos across the Mojave, but as time passed she got used to it. Sometimes she wished she didn't have to. It would be nice to be seen as woman every once in a while, and if not a woman then just herself. So many times she just wanted to pretend she was someone else just so she wouldn't have to face the weight of her celebrity. Lying, however, was never an option for her so she just accepted that as long as she was here she would live the life she was living.

But this note, this message from somewhere out in an undisclosed place there was someone who didn't know who she was or what she had done. It filled her with an incredible sense of newness, a hope.

**From: (Blocked Location)**

**To:** **Terminal 292-A **

**Subject: re:Hello?**

**C,**

**Hello, stranger. What seems to be the problem that you need to talk to someone about? I couldn't help but notice the long string of recipients that you sent this same message to. I thought I was the only one who played around on these old things. Anyway I'm probably just some unknown to you, but it seems that perhaps that is what you need in whatever situation that you have found yourself in. If you still feel the need to vent I offer my ear, or rather my eyes to read your words. I find myself rather prone to long periods of inactivity in my profession. Finding your message was an interesting turn of events in a long series of mundane activity. Wherever you may be I hope this finds you well. **

Whoever had answered her on-a-whim mail message seemed friendly. She immediately wondered what his profession was that it would allow him time with computers as well as free time to be bored. Claire's mind whirled with scenarios of this mysterious stranger. Without a moment of hesitation she found herself immediately typing a reply.

**From: Terminal 292-A **

**To:** **(Blocked Location)**

**Subject: re:Hello?**

**Wow! I actually never expected a reply. I was just sitting there upset over an argument I had with my boss. I'm sure you understand how that is. He's not exactly the easiest person to get along with. He never thinks I'm ever working hard or fast enough and it's frustrating because I spend almost every waking moment trying to make sure I do my job perfect. I want to tear my hair out. Last night I was on the verge of just quitting and walking out. I feel kind of idiotic complaining about it now though. Just a few minutes ago he called me up to his office and apologized to me. I don't know if he meant it or not though, but right now I really don't care. I just don't want to argue anymore. He's not a bad man so I don't want to leave. I just want his respect. I've worked for worse though so I'm sure I'll manage somehow. Thanks for answering me. Its nice to know that there are still people out there willing to reach out to complete strangers. I'd love to talk to you some more if you really don't have anything better to do, but I warn you that I am fairly boring. What's your work?**

Although she still felt foolish for having started all this she sent it anyway. In the light of day with some sleep in her system she was beginning to see the fight with House as something that should have brushed off and not some major catastrophe like she had felt it was the night before. With a better mood came the realization of how trivial it would be to outsiders. Yet whoever the person was that wrote back to her was he or she seemed quite happy to entertain her thoughts and she would continue to speak with them if that's what they wanted. It might be nice to converse with someone a little more normal after all she'd been through. _Heck, it might give me some perspective._ She'd been in the middle of this Mojave crisis long enough to forget what it was like to just be an average Joe, or err, rather Joanna in her case.

When she was finished she switched the monitor off and gathered a few of her things. Since House had told her to take the day off she wanted more than ever to run over to the Tops. Now she wouldn't feel like she was shirking off her duty to him and could really enjoy the day out instead of it being some rebellious act against him. The thought of that was somewhat petty in retrospect. She glanced at her gunbelt that lay across the couch in the corner and decided to leave it there. She trusted Swank and the Chairman as well as House's securitrons to keep the peace. She wouldn't be needing protection on the Strip. _Well,_ she added thoughtfully with a smirk, _not _**that**_ sort of protection anyway._

XXX

House had never seen the Courier smile before, or at least not like she had when she had read his reply to her. He had tried to be as open and welcoming as possible so she would feel invited to continue on with her messages. He hadn't decided fully what his alternate persona was going to be like yet, but he imagined the kind of man she would become comfortable with would be humble and kind. The tactic worked like a charm, especially with the added bit about feeling a little isolated and bored as well. Claire was a bleeding heart and even if she no longer wished to discuss her personal feelings she wouldn't leave another out there needing attention. Not long after she sat down at her computer she had already sent another message back to him and headed out of the Lucky 38 still smiling. She didn't wait for a quick reply, likely believing whoever she was talking to was working or otherwise indisposed.

That was just as well, for now it gave him plenty of time to think about this man he would become while writing to her. She had immediately asked about his profession, something he figured he would have a little leeway with at first to be vague, but Claire was an inquisitive sort. When she had first met him she had asked him so many questions about everything. He had indulged her yearning for that knowledge, blissfully so when she asked about pre-war Vegas, a subject that despite his own secrecy was dear to his heart and therefore a pretty acceptable topic between the two of them. However, as their working relationship grew, becoming more strained and distant, the questions began to slow and then stopped all together. He would have liked to say he didn't care that she no longer asked, but admitted at least to himself that it was quite nice sometimes to talk about before to someone who actually seemed to care.

Moving on from his thoughts about the beginning of their acquaintance he started typing the first draft of the new reply. He'd likely discuss his own "work" this time, perhaps mentioning a difficult superior as well. The rest he'd just see what came out. House had always been more of a scientist than a writer, but he didn't picture the two being that different. Creativity was needed in both areas and was something he was broadly gifted with.

"Boss, Miss Claire is going out. I thought you would like to know." Victor broke through his thoughts.

It was second nature for him to switch to Victor's POV mode when addressed about anything going on in the Strip, and as he watched the courier's back disappear into the crowd he replied, "Yes, of course. I gave her a day off to enjoy herself. As usual though, please keep an eye on her while she's out and do let me know when she comes back."

XXX

"Look who's here! Our favorite gal!" One of the doormen at the Tops greeted as soon as Claire entered. His name was Chance, and he was a hopeless flirt. As usual he placed an arm around her shoulders as he guided her inside. "Long time no see, doll." He smiled at her, all teeth and joviality. That was one thing she could always give the Chairman, their charisma. Every single one of them had it, which sadly was part of the reason that Benny had escaped her when she had finally tracked him down.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Chancy." She told him, a sheepish smile curving her lips as she brushed her hair from her face. "I've been on the road most of the time. The Boss keeps me busy." The Tops was one of the only places that she openly and readily mentioned her work with House. In here she knew most of them supported the Strip overseer, especially Swank. Out in the wastes though so many people had differing opinions and she had to watch who she said she allied herself with. Most of the time she never said a word and let them think whatever they wanted about her.

Chance opened his mouth to speak. No reply ever came and instead he dropped his arm with a flicker of his eyes up toward the staircase leading to the Aces. Claire followed his gaze and found Swank watching them from afar as he approached them. Chance's sudden release amused her. It was no secret that since her first visit here Swank had put in a silent claim on her. It was nothing forceful, and nothing he'd get aggressive about if she ended up liking someone else, but the rest of the Chairman seemed to have an understanding that 'Swank saw her first' and left well enough alone when the two of them were together. It was cute.

Swank opened his arms with a wide grin on his face when he reached her and she melted into his embrace, placing a friendly kiss on his cheek. "Baby, the word gorgeous was invented just for you." He indicated her dress. "What's the special occasion?"

"Oh, nothin' _that_ special, Swank, sweetheart." She told him and linked their arms together when he offered. "Just happy to be back on the Strip again after being gone for way too long. House gave me some free time so I figured I'd come over and invade your space."

"Mhm." Swank nodded. He lowered his head so that his lips brushed her ear, "between me and you though you're welcome to invade this space as much as you want. All day and all night."

"Is that so?" Swank was definitely Mr. Suave when it came to the ladies and she was no exception. She was aware that he was probably like that with every skirt that waltzed in the door, but it wasn't like she wanted anything more than casual fun out of him anyway so it was all innocent between the two of them. Well, innocent in the way that it didn't matter to her that she wasn't the only one he took for a delightful spin now and then up in his room. She was a woman, and he was a man (a fine one at that!) and she was _not_ about to turn that down anytime soon.

"Honey, you know I'm all yours whenever you're in town." His fingers danced across her collarbone like he was a maestro at the keys of a baby grand. With that kind of touch so early in the day she was sure that by the time night fell he'd be playing her in all sorts of ways that were indecent for public. The mere thought of the head Chairman sent a small shiver along her spine and the delicate hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Swank was a master at the human body, particular that of a female and noticed at once. "Cold, babe?" By the slight inflection in his voice she could tell he knew exactly whether she was 'cold' or not.

"Hmm. Try the opposite, honeyface." Claire chuckled and tilted her head up so she could brush her lips along the side of his throat.

"Now, now, darling," Swank told her, cadence playful but not unlike that of someone that was giving a gentle reprimand, "watch yourself. You have a reputation to uphold."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to reach deep into my reserve and keep my hands off you until we can appropriately disappear somewhere." She gave him a wink, which caused the smallest of twitches to the corner of his mouth. He was trying not to smile at her implications; he was failing miserably.

For a moment he became serious again as he regarded her. "Sadly I must inform you that the temptation will be less than usual today. I've got a lot of business to take care of on and off due to the new acts. We've been very busy, lovely. However! We've got quite the line-up, new and old, for you to entertain yourself when I have to be away and since you're around we'll make sure to have a nice lengthy lunch and maybe… dinner?"

"Dinner sounds wonderful."

"Splendid!" He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, hands on her shoulders. "Now, if you will excuse me I have to go check up on a few things. Go talk to Tommy upstairs and he'll have a special seat for you. I'll meet you when the first show starts."

"See you soon. Don't work too hard now."

"I try not to, pussycat!"

XXX

Tommy Torini was ecstatic to see Claire when she came in and immediately separated himself from what he was doing to come say hello. Apparently it had been discussed that since she'd brought in so much new business she was going to be given one of the best seats in the house, no ifs ands or buts about it. He showed her over to her table and proceeded to give her the rundown on all the new gossip in the Tops as well as the acts list of the day. "I'm tellin' ya kid, things have really kicked off."

"Glad to hear that." She sipped at the drink that had been brought to her. It was nice she was making some kind of difference somewhere, even if it wasn't a part of some big good vs. evil battle for liberty and freedom. They continued to chat until Swank returned and dropped into a seat beside her, arm laying across the back of her chair as cross one leg over his knee.

"All right, I'm here now so you can stop talking about how awesome I am."

"Oh yeah, Swank, you know it. Looks like he caught us, Tommy." She grinned.

The three rolled into a rhythm of jokes and banter as things were being set up on the little stage. Claire found herself sitting back during most of it just listening to the menfolk ramble on about Chairman business, but she didn't mind. This normalcy was comforting to her, relaxing. And even when Tommy headed off to take care of the line-up the dynamic didn't change. She looked over at Swank as he watched the performances on stage, a nostalgic smile gracing her lips. Thoughts of her life before the Mojave floated through her mind and for the first time in a while she didn't miss it. The Strip was her sanctuary now, from the crowded streets, to the bustling casinos and on to the quiet solemnity of the Lucky 38. She owed House for the chance to be a part of all this, and finally the animosity, which had spiraled out of control the night before dissolved into nothing. Like House she was willing to do whatever it took to keep this place alive, to protect it.

Seeing the look on her face Swank leaned over, slightly concerned at her somber expression, "you look like you're thinking hard about something?"

"Ah, don't worry about it. Its nothing." Nothing. And everything.

* * *

><p>I'll admit this chapter was a little difficult. It took me a while to try to figure out what the heck House would say to her to begin with so I started out simple. Once they get a repartee going their message conversations should be a little more exciting and revealing.<p>

Next chapter House decides to give Claire another day off (being the wonder philanthropist he is, wink) so that she can have some time to get to know her new 'friend' and so he can start digging into her psyche. The game is afoot!


	4. Chapter 4

**SwankDoll**: Oh, I do. Many wonderful things. :)

**Vect the Atoner**: Yes, House does have this suave charisma at times. I think he just sometimes lets his ego get away with him from time to time because of his own achievements. And at this time he does view Claire as just an employee and I can imagine he's very direct and unapologetic towards them unless he realizes he needs to take another stance to produce the end result he wants.

**FloatOn**: Aww. Thanks. And I love Swank, I just don't usually use him in much of my writing so it was nice to let loose with him for a bit.

**KatrinaJG**: Yeah, for some reason I see a lot of the chairman having some kind of honor code amongst each other. And I've always liked the atmosphere that the Tops has about it, especially the type of people its supposed to represent. I still love the rubber factory comment, top notch. And thank you again for your helpful comment and following message. It made me feel better about my little mistake.

**Whatshisface v.2**: Glad you're enjoying it. And I totally agree about the npc commentary in the game, but it just feeds some of my courier characters wishes for anonymity. Celebrity isn't all its cracked up to be.

**Darkness Diablo**: Heh, I thought it might to some, the Swank thing. I'm actually still figuring how Swank is going to play into the equation as the story progresses so its going to be an interesting thing to see, and as for House's reaction to something happening to Claire... Not sure about that either, and hopefully we'll never have to see ;) but if it does I have a feeling I'd feel very, very bad for the idiot who messed with her. Because, of course, you don't trifle with House's property.

**TrippyFalls**: Well, I'm happy to be your first. ;) And thanks. I find it a very rare circumstance where its ok for two characters to automatically be all into each other. House doesn't seem like the lovey dovey type (even if he was completely in love with someone). I just don't think he knows how to show certain emotions in an orthodox way. I think it would take a certain kind of person to be able to have the patience to figure him out and see through his subtle affections. As for the anonymous messages, I find it very true in real life that many people find it easier to let their guard down when not face to face with someone, especially when pretending to be someone else. I think House could have benefited from our modern internet because it just seems to me (opinion) that while people in his time appreciated his brilliance, that those he did allow to see his odd inner personality didn't get him or want to. And rawr. I'm beginning to ramble. Lol. But lastly, about Claire, I find her being relatable and unperfect a high compliment. The whole point of a story for me are for characters to grow and learn. You can't do that is they start out perfect.

**KenzieGirl**: I'm very happy you're liking this story. An speaking of new chapters:

* * *

><p><strong>A Terminal Affair<strong>

**4**

The Lucky 38 was silent. It was usually silent, especially when the courier was gone on one of her special missions, but it was a different kind of quiet once House knew that Claire was back in town and she wasn't there. Unlike how most of the Mojave probably pictured her he knew her to be more of a homebody, placing her adventuresome façade on the shelf while she was on the Strip. House didn't know why the fact the usually anti-social girl was now out at the Tops irked him, but it did. Maybe it was because he didn't want her to get lost in the sparkling lights and forget why she was there, maybe it was because she was in the very place that spawned a betrayer (despite the fact the rest of the Chairmen seemed trustworthy enough), or maybe it was something else, something he hadn't considered.

Meanwhile he tried to distract himself by rereading Claire's message and determining what his would be. He found it harder to not answer back what he would have said to her instead of what the heretofore anonymous stranger would say. "He never thinks I'm ever working hard or fast enough." She had said. He wanted to point out that in a way she really wasn't working as fast as she could have been. Claire constantly stopped to do every little good deed possible on her way to whatever job he had sent her to do resulting in the job taking days more than it _should_ have. However, her sympathetic new confidante would not say such things as "maybe he's right, if you think about it…" And he hoped to high heaven that she did "manage" to deal with him or the rest of the world could just kiss their post-apocalyptic asses goodbye in lieu of a new dark age of humanity. He really believed that, and if she didn't then she was a fool.

The only thing he found truly fascinating was her insistence that she was a boring individual. Irritating? Yes. Hardheaded? Yes. Small-minded (as he'd thought before)? Yes. Boring? Absolutely _not_. The woman who had looked Death in the face and said "No thanks, maybe later" was attempting to downplay her whole experience. If she had been nothing special he would have never invited her to the Strip, and he definitely would not have allowed her to step foot inside the Lucky 38 where he had refused to let another soul for over 200 years. Whether she saw it or not she was not normal or boring. _Such wasted potential._ He thought, placing the finishing touches on his reply. Perhaps she was just trying to be modest or hide her identity. There was always the option, that being a woman, she was playing coy, although that didn't seem to fit her too well either. He frowned and went over his words one last time.

**From: (Blocked Location)**

**To:** **Terminal 292-A **

**Subject: re:Hello?**

**Boring? You must be jesting with me. Anyone who is capable of randomly sending out a personal message in a time of particular vulnerability to strangers can't be all that boring. Then again perhaps that is just my opinion, but I will make that opinion be known. I, on the other hand, have to admit that I probably am truly the boring one between the two of us. Because of the highly sensitive specifics I can't tell you the exact job I perform but I do work closely with the collection and cataloguing of pre-war knowledge and technologies, which explains my constant access to the computer that I am currently using in case you are wondering. Yes, it **_**sounds**_** pretty exciting but I promise it is not. Dig through dust. Find something interesting. Get excited. Lather, rinse, repeat. After a while the tedium of it all overshadows even the most amazing discoveries. So trust me, when you offer a chance for some kind of outside contact to break through this monotony I am more than willing to accept!**

**Also, about your boss? Don't let him get to you. I'm sure he's just doing what all bosses do, which is keep some kind of order among his employees. I sincerely hope he meant his apology to you – and although you may think he didn't he might very well have. That, of course, is up to you to decide on your own. I have no knowledge of who you work for or his methods. You know whether his word can be trusted or not. What do you believe? You have stated you don't think he is a bad man. If you can trust your own judgment about him then I'd say follow that.**

Parts of the message seemed choppy. He wasn't particularly proud of it, but it wasn't like he was writing a novel. Rather, it was more realistic that a normal man working in this world's wastes wouldn't worry with going through multiple versions of a simple note. So after revisions and re-revisions House decided to with one of the more poorly written versions and sent it on so that it would be waiting for her in her inbox when she returned home. Whenever that would be.

XXX

Claire stumbled through the gate sometime after midnight. No one seemed to notice another disheveled Strip inhabitant, being lost in their own neon-signed worlds of sex and booze. It hadn't even been twenty minutes since she had woken up in the Tops, curled beneath the wrinkled sheets and the familiar, warm weight of the head Chairman's arm draped over her. The day had been filled with music and laughter, but had inevitably led to a candlelit dinner for two up in Swank's room, proving once more he sure did know how to treat the ladies. The night ended with clothes thrown over furniture and strewn sporadically across his floor. The long days spent traipsing the wastes dissolved away amidst hours of pleasure-induced amnesia. She could forget herself in his embrace, was comforted by their closeness.

The problem was that the feeling, like any drug, was fleeting and returned with a vengeance when everything was over. It wasn't guilt that caused her to leave him while he slept, oh no, because there was no need to regret something that had happened between two mature adults, but something deeper and harder to explain. Claire tried to brush it off as discomfort at waking up in a place other than her own bed, which was silly if she thought harder on the subject because she spent days on end in bedrolls and old mattresses left behind by dead people. Sleeping in a comfortable bed next to Swank should have been no problem, but for some reason it was. So she left a note on his side table telling him thanks for the great evening and grabbed her clothes on the way downstairs.

She passed a drunken NCR soldier and narrowly avoided having her toes stepped on as she dodged out of the way. Her heels dangled from her loosely crooked fingers, for she hadn't bothered to even put them back on when she left, so they would have been useless in protecting feet. Not that they helped much when she _did_ wear them. They were more a menace for her feet than anything, mainly because it only took a few hours on them before the shoes began rubbing her skin raw. Glitz and glamour were definitely strangers to her and she was big enough to admit it. Pausing at the bottom of the steps to the Lucky 38 she rubbed the burning soles of her feet again and noticed with displeasure a few blisters that were popping up. A long soak in the tub for them seemed to be in order, and would likely be necessary if she was going to put her boots back on without wincing in pain. Traveling would be Hell for the next few days.

"Ex-excuse me?" The voice was feminine, and very timid, as if the owner was not used to speaking up or being confrontational. At first Claire didn't even notice it as she started up the steps again, being given no reason to believe that it was aimed at her until it raised a few notches, "uhm, excuse me, you're the Courier, aren't you?"

Yes, she was being spoken to, and at the most inconvenient time. She wanted to get off her feet, her dress was wrinkled, and her usually straight brown hair was likely a bug chocolate-colored nest of kinks. "I am." She turned her head towards the speaker. It was a woman sporting a labcoat and a smudged pair of glasses that seemed altogether too big for her face. Claire would bet her suite inside that she was a member of the Followers of the Apocalypse. She had spent enough time around them to just be able to pick out their kind. "You are?"

"Oh, uh, Emily Ortal. I'm with the Followers—"

Bingo!

"—and I was wondering if you could help me out with something."

XXX

He should have expected something like this. He remembered the first time the Followers of the Apocalypse had tried to access his network. It hadn't even taken a full minute to fry their equipment through the connection that they had provided, not realizing that a door in was also a door out. Really, who did they think that they were dealing with? He was the founder of RobCo. Technology was his specialty. It had been a laughable attempt, and one he had viewed more as a slight annoyance rather than any real sort of threat. After that they had laid off their attempts. Maybe they had decided to give up all together, or maybe they had just been biding their time.

House wouldn't disagree that the Followers were an extraordinary group of individuals. Their ideas about bringing knowledge and aid to the wastes were admirable, if not misspent. The people of the Mojave wasteland did not appreciate, care, nor have the capacity to truly understand that which the Followers were attempting to do. This was a fact that House had foreseen. Most wastelanders weren't ready for civilization again, and he refused to waste both his and the Followers time. He hadn't shared his wealth of knowledge, or even allowed a dialogue to open between himself and the Followers. That would have just given them some kind of false hope and distract them from their more important endeavors.

At this step in his plans he was more concerned for the well-being and growth of the Strip, but he knew that the Followers work would one day make his future plans easier. Mankind would need people to show them the way back to stability. Just… not yet. However, the Followers wouldn't have the same foresight, and even if they did they were stubborn and determined to try to make a difference now. So they had persisted. And if it had been the second option of biding their time that they had been waiting for, then their patience had paid off. Their chance had finally arrived.

Emily's curiosity matched his own. Would Claire accept the deal she was offering, or would she turn Emily down? Either way, House wasn't sure it mattered.

XXX

"Wait, you want me to _bug_ House's network?" Claire wanted to laugh, but she was too damned exhausted. Her hand lifted to her temples and massaged them, already hating where this conversation was going and her skull agreed it sounded like a major headache.

Emily stumbled over a few unintelligible words, trying to find a way to explain the situation in a way that it wouldn't sound so bad. Claire didn't think that was possible. "I know how this seems, but of all people I'm sure you know how secretive House is. We've already tried to remotely access his records but we were… unsuccessful."

"So you've _already_ tried to do this and failed, and now you're back at it. Has it occurred to you that maybe House doesn't want to share what he has at this time?" Claire really hated to say something like that. More than anything she would like to do something that would turn around life in the wastes, make it a better place for its inhabitants. Mr. House was a genius and it didn't take another from surmising that he probably had an invaluable collection of information stored away that could do that. Yet again maybe everyone was just putting him up on this big pedestal and was making assumptions. Maybe the real reason he didn't make contact was because he himself didn't know the information they wanted. She didn't see how she should risk her position with him over assumptions.

"Please. He won't talk to anyone. We've tried countless times to communicate and we can't. Nobody has – except for you. You're the only way. Imagine the medical advancements alone!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"No, wait!" Emily caught her arm as she tried to leave. "You can't just ignore this. People are hurting out there and they need this. Its not like we're going to be breaking into anything personal, just any kind of research data that might be helpful."

…that _might _ be helpful? There was that uncertainty again. Doubt wasn't just in Claire's head but Emily's, too. "Look at it from my perspective for a moment, all right? You want me to go in there and install some device I don't know shit about into the computer system of the man who has, probably against his better judgment, allowed me to stay in his home, has paid all my expenses, and is even – I suspect – the very reason I am still alive instead of rotting in some unmarked grave somewhere. All of this over information that you're not even sure is even there. Why should I do that? I'm sorry, but I won't."

"So its no, just like that." Ortal's eyes darkened a little. "You're just not even going try to help because you're afraid. How can you be so selfish?"

Claire liked the Followers. They had done plenty of awesome things and were continuing to do so, but when faced with _this_ woman and her twisted logic she was flabbergasted. "You're the one who comes up here and asks me to spy on my boss, like some… some rat! And then you dare to call _me_ the selfish one?" Emily acted like House was some villain that had a miracle cure that could fix the world but just kept it for the fun of it. Claire had lived her life in different states of poverty, so she understood how sometimes the man on top didn't deserve what he had and that sometimes you just had to take what you needed to survive. This wasn't one of those times, she felt that truly in her heart. Now she was wondering if this shit was the reason that he refused to talk to anyone, because he knew they'd pull this. _Fuck, am I actually starting to sympathize with him on the entire hermit thing?_ "This conversation is over."

The courier was already halfway to the door when Emily called out to her again, this time defeat dragging down her tone. "I'm sorry… just _please_ at least think about it."

"Fine. I'll think about it. I'll even talk to House for you. Just don't get your hopes up." _Especially after insulting me._ It was petty and she knew that. It didn't stop her from considering her original decision to being the right one. Maybe House was doing the wrong thing by keeping the information to himself, but Emily was definitely wrong by just wanting to take it so underhandedly. She was acting like he was obligated to just hand it over. He wasn't. _And Daddy always said two wrongs never make a right._ "Oh, and for the record, _don't_ ever call me a coward again or I'll show you just how unafraid I can be."

XXX

Emily Ortal had come to the Strip looking for who she thought was going to be her Robin Hood. Instead she had found what was closer to the evil Sheriff of Nottingham. From the expression on Claire's face as she slumped to a sitting position just inside the doors of the Lucky 38 she was as disappointed with the situation as the Follower was. And House watched her curiously, for the heroine of the Mojave had just chosen the needs of the one over the needs of the many, or at least, he knew, that was the way she was seeing it. He wondered why.

* * *

><p>Well, not exactly the chapter I had in mind when I started writing it, but after thinking about it I found Emily's request an important trial for Claire. I had to rewrite it twice so I hope it came out all right. Sometimes when I rewrite things flow kind of funny.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Darkness Diablo**: Muahahaha! My devious plan of converting those to House supporters is nearly complete! Err, sort of. And lol, Jane, I nearly _forgot_ about her. I don't know what I'll do with her, but that will depend upon what I decide on what she claims about her and House. If her talk is just programming or if there really is some kind of something going on.

**SwankDoll**: Thank you much. :) Glad you're likin' the Swank bits. There are plenty more to come.

**Function**: I think I will remain mostly in the bounds of the Strip and close areas for the story. There will be times that I do follow her out on one of her missions, but I'm only going to try to write out things that I feel need to be told from her perspective or that I'm gong to change, as well as some original situations I'm going to be throwing in that are definitely not in the game and therefore cannot be glossed over. All in all I'm just kind of trying to go with the flow and keep the majority of the action between the relationship between Claire and House and the things that will make the most difference in that relationship.

**KenzieGirl**: I've been trying to loosely plan out the chapters in advance. Right now I've got about 11-12 planned for sure, and I know there will be more. At _this_ time I'll try to project it to 20 to be on the safe side, but anything could happen, since I'm not sure where the original bits I'm going to be adding will play out yet.

**KatrinaJG**: I hope you had a nice work day! And I would absolutely love to hear what else you're thinking. So if you want you can also PM me. :) And yeah, House is a total badass. Even Swank's like "I'm glad the Legion stays out cause House would totally kick their ass." (Or something similar.) So one little network intrusion is nothing. I have to agree, the "don't be coy" comment caught me a little off guard the first time, in a good way, especially because of the inflection. House's voice is just... I think "unf" covers it for now. But as for the way that House treats the Courier's decisions, and him/her doing work for others, its probably one of the big reasons that I find myself House's girl through and through. I like bits of what the Legion does, and bits of the NCR, but overall House just has it right. And I think he has the confidence enough to understand that as long as the personal work for him is still being done it shouldn't matter what else they do for others (as long as they don't try to betray him, of course). I don't know whether its supposed to be viewed as arrogance on his part that no one could do anything to him by his inaction to certain things, but I see it more of, despite the things people have done to him, almost this want to trust the Courier. Am I rambling? I hope not.

* * *

><p><strong>A Terminal Affair<strong>

**5**

**From: Terminal 292-A**

**To:** **(Blocked Location)**

**Subject: Lose-Lose Situations**

**Have you ever been in a morally ambiguous situation? One that you knew that no matter what you did you would be letting somebody down, and because of the circumstances neither option is quite acceptable. I have found myself in one of those situations tonight. On one hand I know the choice I want to make and know that its right, but on the other hand so is the other one. In one choice I have the option to potentially help a lot of people, which is something I've found that I really want to do. I never really have been able to make a difference in my life, trapped by my own inability to do anything about what's going on around me. **

**Lately I've had a unique leg up in the world and have done some pretty amazing and helpful things. I think more people need to take a stand in this world and try to help out others, make this world a better place. However, the big problem with the help loads of people option is that its not a for sure thing in my opinion, and to do it I would not only have to probably lie to, but also deceive my boss. Which, I can't reconcile in my mind. And to answer your question from before: yes, I do trust my boss. He's more than a little unorthodox but as far as I can tell he's never lied to me and means everything he says. Although, he does like to be very cryptic at times.**

**I'm not necessarily asking you what I should do. I'm just tired of having to deal with decisions like these by myself and need to vent. It's probably very unfair that since I've started messaging you all I've done is complain about my position in life. It makes me sound like I don't have my shit together – and maybe I don't. Maybe I'm just selfish or afraid. Afraid of losing the cushy life I've been given, despite its difficulties at times. Like things aren't complicated enough without this new issue rearing its ugly head. I mean, this woman comes out of nowhere like some kind of labcoat ninja and turns my entire world upside down. Or sideways. It was kind of upside down to begin with. **

**Oh, on a lighter note I actually got to go out and have some fun tonight. I'm not much the party type but no matter who you are the Tops is a swinging place, especially if you've got friends there. It was nice for once not to worry about anything and just relax. Too bad it didn't last. Its like the world just looks for ways to bring my spirit down. Heh. **

**I hope you're having more luck in your little corner of existence than I am. And I love the sound of your job. The simplicity is something I would actually love. It sounds like you always know what you should do and when, as well as fairly peaceful. You guys hiring?**

Night had crawled into day, as Claire lay awake in bed. She had tried to sleep after returning home, but nothing would hush the storm brewing in her mind about the conversation she'd had with Emily Ortal, the Followers technician. If she could she would have willed it into some jet-induced vision and shove the whole situation under a rock. Unfortunately her conscience wasn't allowing her to forget something like that. A sloshing noise interrupted her thoughts and she realized that she was tapping her foot anxiously in the small basin of salt-water she had under her desk for her aching feet. With a deep sigh she hit send, not being able to think of anything more to say to her new friend at this time and lifted her feet from the water; it was beginning to get cold anyway.

While she was gently toweling them off she heard Victor calling her name from the doorway and heard something about House. Dread gripped her for an instant, just knowing that he knew and that she was in some kind of trouble. "Wh-what was that Victor?" She stood up and eased herself over to her door.

"Mr. House wants to see you."

"Now?"

Victor's screen spazzed out. He was 'talking' with House. "He said soon."

Claire let out a breath of relief. If she were in trouble then House would have probably demanded her presence. He did that sort of thing when he was irritated or displeased with her. So apparently whatever he had to talk about was just usual business. "Uhm, I'll get dressed."

XXX

Calling Claire up to the penthouse was completely unnecessary, for he could have just passed his message through to her via Victor, and still he was doing it anyway. Mostly because he wanted to see how her actions would change, if they did at all, with the addition of this new development. Seconds after he requested her presence he received yet another message from her. It was the longest one so far, and from skimming it briefly he realized that it was bothering her a bit more than he had originally anticipated it would. He didn't know why she was stressing out so much over it. It was actually not that big of a deal. At least not to him. Then again he had to remind himself that Claire and himself were two quite different individuals. She was probably born to worry about everything under the sun.

House was still perusing the message when Claire arrived. It actually took her having to attempt a connection using the main terminal in his penthouse twice before he noticed her. Unprofessional. "Yes, Miss Stokes? I didn't expect you so soon."

"I was starting to think you weren't here." She replied to him.

"That, yes, I was just going over… an important document."

She transferred her weight from one foot to another uncomfortably, eyes flickering towards the top of the stairs and passed to the elevator beyond. "I could go if you're busy. I just figured 'soon' meant ASAP. So here I am."

"No, I was just passing time. I wanted to talk to you about the next step in our plans." He had been forced to rethink a few things, considering he had arranged for the chip to be back in their possession long before she had to go to Fortification Hill, but it looked like she would have to go there first. It didn't miss his attention that the thought of having to face Caesar himself was an idea that made her nervous, and the probability of her making multiple successful trips was statistically not very good. It was no insult to Claire, really. Caesar might be fooled once, but he would not chance the chip or Claire in hoping that he could be fooled more than that.

"All right." She backed up a few steps and sat down on the bottom of the steps. Her eyes remained on the pictorial representation of him as they talked; she always looked at him when they spoke. "What do I need to do?"

"It seems that there is a high chance that you will catch up to Benny at the Fort so while you are there I want you to do something for me. There is a bunker there, one that Caesar will likely mention as well. Whatever he asks you to do I want you to not do it. Instead I need you to go inside the bunker. It can only be opened with the chip. Once you are inside there will be another terminal. I will wait until you are there to discuss the specifics of the operation."

Claire bit her bottom lip, eyes sweeping across the floor for an instant as she thought. It always bothered her that he was never told her everything up front, but surprisingly never said anything out loud about it. Finally she lifted her gaze again, "what if Caesar gets the chip?"

"I have a distinct feeling that he will request you go down inside the bunker as well, so even if he has the chip you will get it back." House was always very certain about the things that he said. Between his calculations and many, many years of practice at reading people it was very rare that he was wrong. Yet even as he told her that everything would work out fine he felt a personal twinge of worry. It was fleeting, but if he didn't consider failure he would have been foolish. He hoped this was not one of those times he was wrong – for both of their sake. Claire being captured by the Legion and his Chip permanently taken would end everything before it really got a chance to begin.

This fact didn't escape his employee either. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she wanted to broach another concern. Instead she just forced a smile, "when do you want me to go?"

"Take your time preparing. We cannot afford even the smallest mistakes. Make sure you are both mentally and physically able to make it through this task. This is one of the most dangerous missions I will send you on. I will understand if you back out." _Although I will be most disappointed._

"I – Listen, I'm not trying to get out of this, but I have to ask something important. Are you _sure_ you want me to do this? I've already screwed up so much. I mean, I've lost the chip: twice! I let Benny fool me so he could get away. I still don't understand why you want to keep me around. It seems like I'm just making things worse."

There it was again, that feeling of inferiority he got from her much of the time. "Miss Stokes, I believe you are clearly underestimating yourself. I would not have asked you to do this for me if I did not believe you were capable. Your only problem is that you doubt your abilities."

"You really think so?"

"I don't say things I don't mean. Just remember that you've made it this far. What are a few more steps?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right. I can do it. This is important, right, what you need from there? Just give me a couple days to organize supplies and I'll head out."

"Is there anything you require?"

"Just some more ammo, but I can pick that up on the way."

"Very well. When you are ready to go check with Victor. I will make sure to pull some caps for you for whatever equipment you need."

"That's not necessary. I can afford it." She held her hands up. Most people wouldn't have a problem taking money from him. It made Claire uneasy.

"Nonsense. This is a business, and being that you will be given whatever means to achieve your goal."

"Of course, Mr. House." Claire nodded.

"Is there anything that you want to discuss with me before I release you from this meeting?" Here he would give her a chance to bring up the subject of the Followers and Emily Ortal's plan to gain access to his information. For a moment she looked rather uncertain, as if she was struggling with her personal thoughts. Finally she answered him.

"No. I have nothing else I need."

Interesting. "Then you are dismissed."

Claire climbed to her feet and started to make her way up the stairs.

"Oh, and Claire?"

She paused at the usage of her first name, tilting her head back at him. "Yes, sir?"

"Do take some of that money and buy yourself a better pair of shoes. We can't have you limping all over the Mojave, now can we?"

XXX

Did House know why she was so sore this morning and making a subtle comment about it? Or was he really just making an observation based on her obviously pained movements? For some reason Claire felt embarrassed with the situation if it was the former. She knew that he wasn't the type to judge her or others for the way that they lived their life. Hell, he was the leader of New Vegas for Chrissakes. Maybe it was the years of preaching she had endured as a child, spilled from the lips of authoritarians whose presences were similarly imposing like House's, or maybe she just didn't want her boss to see her in such a state, worn down by casual endeavors instead of her harsh surroundings.

She tried not to think of that as she rode the elevator back down to her room and turned her mind to whatever preparations she would have to make to travel to the Fort. Unpleasantly she realized that no matter what she was thinking about this morning it would be an unhappy subject. She grabbed a handful of sodas from the fridge and headed to her desk, ready for a day of work, work, work. Claire was anxious to complete everything and be on the road as soon as possible. After everything that had happened during her short stint in being House's little errand girl she wanted to get out there and get something right, give some proof to his words of her being able to be something more than a royal fuck-up.

It was strange how much she poured into this job. Usually she would just throw in the towel and hope that someone more apt would come along to fill in where she lacked. Heck, if it hadn't been for her deep desire to know why she'd been shot back in Goodsprings she would have abandoned the courier job altogether. Here, with House, she didn't want to do that. She'd never wanted to make someone proud before, not even her parents, but she wanted House to be happy with her. She also didn't know why the thought of letting him down would break her heart a little. Maybe it was because she'd never had anyone put so much faith in her before, even if sometimes that faith was tested and marred with moments of displeasure when she had failed him. Claire had experienced enough lets-downs in life that the last thing she wanted to do was be the source of that kind of disappointment for someone.

Determined, she set about planning her new mission.

XXX

"Have you ever been in a morally ambiguous situation?" Claire's opening to her last message was quite the loaded question. If he had been replying as himself and not the imaginary pre-war technology salvager he would probably have a few decent anecdotes to relay. Unfortunately, he was not speaking to her as Robert House, and would have to settle for a vague, generic response. Regretful, for he knew she would have enjoyed one of the stories her had to tell. Of course, he could have twisted it to fit a wasteland situation, but he feared he'd lose track of who he was supposed to be and say something that would out his true identity and end this little social experiment way too soon. No, he'd keep anything personally familiar far away from these communications.

**From: (Blocked Location)**

**To:** **Terminal 292-A**

**Subject: re:Lose-Lose Situations**

**Sadly most people have difficulties in just surviving themselves, much less having the ability to do anything for anyone else. And anyone that does is probably afraid. Not to say there aren't individuals out there that don't just sit back without a care as the world continues to go to Hell around them. I'm glad that you've found yourself in a positive place and are trying to do something good. Quite admirable, honestly. **

**I couldn't help but notice you mentioned the Tops. You mean the Tops in New Vegas, don't you? Are you from there, or do you just work there? And speaking of work, you've talked about it a lot, but you've never said what you do. I know I mentioned my work needed secrecy. It seems yours does as well, especially with the situation with this woman who approached you.**

He wanted to be able to give some kind of advice on this, despite her assurances that she didn't want any. House knew Claire better than that. She said she didn't want any help, but on the inside she was probably crying out for someone to tell her what she needed to do. However, he could not indulge this, even if he believed this mystery man would have an opinion. Whatever decision she made in the end he wanted it to be her own, wanted to _know_ it was her own and not his or some fictional man's. In his business endeavors he was a calculated, controlling man, but this was not business for him. This was a personal issue of Claire's. Whatever she decided would not affect him in the very least. Yet it would have dire consequences for her if she felt she made the wrong choice and he just could not chance having her distracted by guilt over something he deemed unimportant.

**It seems no matter where you are in this world there is always someone out there that wants to take what you have, or in this case take what your employer has. It's a sad fact that people feel it is necessary. I hope you find the answer that serves you the best. Don't stress yourself out about it. Think calmly and analyze all points. If all else, forget about it for a while and the answer might come to you out of nowhere. It works for me sometimes. Good luck, friend.**

**P.S. If you feel comfortable enough I'd like to know more about you. We've already passed quite a few of these e-mails back and forth and I don't even know your name.**

Claire didn't talk about herself at all. House didn't know where she was from before she had come to the Mojave with his Chip, if she had any family, or even how old she was. Physical observations indicated she was probably anywhere between her early to mid twenties. Her mental capacity however was way across the board. Sometimes she seemed so very young while at other times showed wisdoms some people didn't begin to uncover until their thirties. Still, it was not completely out of the question someone in their twenties could think the way she did, for _he_ had built RobCo in a short amount of time and had it going strong and stable by the time he was twenty-five.

Her latent potential was astounding, and sometimes he wondered what she would be if she had been born in a different kind of world. When given the chance she was a fast learner. If she had grown up in the time he had would she have been another name passed around as a pre-war prodigy? Perhaps he was giving her too much credit. Regardless who she _would_ have been was a moot point, for she was who was and unless someone invented some kind of time machine (which he had always found to be a particularly idiotic idea anyway) she would remain that person. Prodigy status notwithstanding he was confident that with his guidance he could make something great out of her, greater than any of those other wastelanders could have even dreamed of. Verily, she was _already_ putting them to shame.

XXX

**From: Terminal 292-A**

**To:** **(Blocked Location)**

**Subject: re:Lose-Lose Situations**

**Claire. My name is Claire. Not the most exciting name ever, am I right? Haha. **

**No, I'm not from New Vegas. I'm not even from Nevada. I just came into the area while working and long-story (reaaaal long story) short, since I'm sure you don't want to hear the boring details, I ended up where I am now. It was kind of one strange event after the other that led me to my current place of employment. Sometimes I think I'm really lucky, and other times… Well, other times I wish I'd stayed in California. Don't get me wrong though, the Strip is a really awesome place to live. If it weren't for some of the stuff going on I wouldn't have one care in the world. It's never boring here though. I give it that. I know why people love it so much. It's always so bright and colorful here, so different than out there in the wasteland. And I can see the lights for miles and miles. The best part? Where I live I have this amazing view. I can just head upstairs to a lounge area and sit and look out over the city and surrounding wastes. Beautiful! Especially at night. **

**I just wish I were home more often. Most of the time I spent out in the Mojave, either doing things for my boss or helping out where I can. I think these two days is the longest I've been consecutively home in a while and that's not going to last because either tomorrow or the day after I'm heading out again and its going to take me about half a week to make the round trip to where I'm going. As to my work? I probably really shouldn't talk to you about it too much. I guess if I had to give myself a title though maybe mercenary would work. Although that sounds way too harsh. I worked as a courier before. Now I'm more like an errand girl or… an assistant. Yeah, I guess I'm my boss' assistant. Its really demanding at times and sometimes I have to go places I'd rather not. But that's kind of any job, isn't it?**

XXX

**From: (Blocked Location)**

**To:** **Terminal 292-A**

**Subject: re:Lose-Lose Situations**

**On the contrary, Claire, I'm a sucker for a good story. If you're not too busy, I'd love to hear it.**

* * *

><p>Oh, I have something interesting for you House fans if you want. I have this birthday book that lists info on Zodiac signs as well as a listing of every single day of the year and it describes a person's personality based on that. I've found it to be kind of scary accurate about a lot of things and mostly use it for my original stories, but since they actually have House's birthday revealed in the game I decided for the heck of it to look it up the other night and it totally fits him to a T, at least I think so. Its a lot, but I'd be willing to type it all up and post it up on my blog if any of you want to read it?<strong><br>**


	6. Chapter 6

Well, I have that blog with the Zodiac and birthday stuff posted. Go to my blog via my profile page, or scroll down to the update section and I've posted the direct link to the article.

**SwankDoll**: Thank you much!

**KenzieGirl**: About the zodiac stuff. I haven't had much chance to compare it to fictional, but as real life goes its fit every single person I've checked their birthday for so I say its pretty accurate.

**Vect the Atoner**: Yeah, I kind of laughed when I found out he was a cancer because my best friend is one and I automatically went "that explains it all then!" And Claire's lack of companions. At the beginning it just didn't seem right to have anyone with her. I don't know why. It just struck me that that soon in her journey she wouldn't have really stopped to pick people up, maybe after she's slowed down a bit. I'm throwing around some ideas though, and I think I'll probably involve her getting Rex soon. About any humans, it just depends on where the story takes her.

**DarknessDiablo**: Hehe, the hair thing. I found that pretty hilarious myself. And the Sammy Davis Jr. thing, maybe a little bit, but I'd almost compare him more to Dean Domino a little bit. (There's this one picture that reminds me a lot of the one that Dean has on his posters. Sunglasses and all.)

**KatrinaJG**: God, the Brotherhood. The only ones I could really stand to be around for too long were the east coast ones in 3, but i never cared to even really explore. I dealt with them as I had to via storyline. I won't go into the reasons I have disdain for the NCR, but House's statement to the Courier to look out the window and see the result of governments like that pretty much sums it up. Oh the "chrissakes" thing. I almost spelled it Christsakes, but in my head I just heard it without the T, so it more reflected a little bit of her thought process. It just seemed more casual. And hey, no prob with the getting really involved in games. I do too. In 3 it took me a bunch of playthroughs before I could TRY to play an evil character because it was so far from my nature, and when I blew up Megaton I physically felt ill in real life. When Claire doesn't ask for his name its probably more of her just having too much on her mind, although I haven't decided yet. Outside of story I just chose not to put that in yet. Oh, and House? I'm hoping I can show how he eventually starts letting his guard down more and more until he unconsciously stops filtering. I'd answer more but I'm afraid I might ruin it. Finally, I haven't play OWB yet (although I did read/hear about how they dislike each other), haven't had time, but I have purchased and downloaded it. If it suits possible story archs I might actually involve it in here. I can only imagine the shit storm...

**FloatOn**: Yeah, that's one of the more impotant elements, Claire's want to please House, potentially at all costs. Again most of this story involves much of its development being within each of the main character's emotional and mental arenas. Especially House.

Sorry if some of my replies seem kind of rushed or blocky. I've been up a looong time.

* * *

><p><strong>A Terminal Affair<strong>

**6**

"I have good news and I have bad news." The Courier stood before him, hair tangled, dust clinging to nearly every inch of her clothing. This time she had come right up to the Penthouse to speak with him despite her appearance. "Which would you like to hear first?" She blew an errant strand of hair out of her face with annoyance and then pushed it behind her ear.

This was one of those moments that he got a flash from the past, an image of himself leaning forward on his hand as he sighed deeply, fingers sliding through his neatly combed dark hair before lifting his eyes back to the person he had been talking to. The physical movements were absent, but the emotion remained, filling him with a sudden overwhelming weariness. From the expression on Claire's face something had not gone as planned. "As much as I would like to hear the good part first, I have a feeling we should save that for after the bad you have to tell me."

Claire was looking at her feet, arms akimbo at her sides, hands on her hips. Her posture revealed her unhappiness with herself as well as the way this mission had ended. She didn't lift her head when she continued on with her report, but between the thick curtain of her hair he caught the intense blue of her eyes as they locked on him, or his picture rather. "Well, the bad news is kind of a multi-part thing. First of all, Benny wasn't there. I have no idea where he was. I even watched out for signs that he had snuck in and was hiding out, but I'm sure he would have made a move on me at some point. He's not had the ability to not take a chance to fuck me over yet." With that comment she frowned, finally raising her head, eyes staring up at the ceiling as if thinking about her previous encounters with the man.

"Second," she went on, "I don't think I can go back there." Here she paused.

"Did something happen while you were there that made you feel threatened?"

"Err… Not exactly." She scratched the back of her head, leaving her already tousled brown hair even more disheveled. "Uhm, I kind of… _toldthemI'dkillyou."_

House heard her words despite them being run together and mumbled almost to the point of whispering. Still, maybe he'd heard her wrong. "What was that, I'm not sure I quite heard you."

A few curses. "Caesar wants me to kill you."

"I see. How are you going to handle this?"

"Oh, I'm not going to handle it – because I'm _not_ going to do it."

He took in the way her entire body went rigid, the rise in her tone, the absolute vehemence behind her statement. It was amusing, for she was reacting almost as if he was implying she was actually going to go through with it. He was well past thinking her capable of such. And even if she was going to she would have probably come right out with it first off. She was, after all, a terrible liar.

After a few seconds she deflated a little and added, "so Caesar can just stick it up his skirt."

House held back the urge to chuckle at her comment. He imagined her saying that to Caesar's face and the possible reactions that might occur because of it. It was true that he wanted no harm to come to the Legion's emperor at this time, but that didn't mean they weren't enemies, something that had not escaped Caesar's attention and because of that he would allow himself the momentary pleasure of the man realizing he was not going to get his way. However, that led to a new problem. "He's going to know you lied to him, and likely sooner than later."

"I know." Claire admitted. It was no secret that the Legion had spies everywhere, even on the Strip. It was impossible to find them all and House didn't bother trying for their presence was a monkey wrench in the gears of the NCR. "I think I could get away with coming and going a few times before it hits them I'm not planning on doing anything against you. When that happens I better have a plan. I need to find Benny, and I need to do it fast, or I'll have to find some other way into the Fort."

"You said before that you were trying to track him?"

"Yeah, but I lost that trail, especially when I completely dropped the hunt and just headed up to the Fort. I think I know what I can do though."

House was interested. Unlike others, who might just wait for orders, Claire was attempting to be proactive. If she was formulating her own plan he would hear it. "Go on."

"I'd like to talk to Swank. Out of everyone he seems to know Benny the most. Benny likely understands that he can't just waltz into the Fort. He's not like me; he didn't have an invitation. So he might be out there somewhere figuring out his next steps. He'll have to have a safe place for that since he can't be here anymore. Swank might know where he'd go. It's a long shot, but its still a shot. What do you think? Waste of time, or worth a try?"

Definitely worth a try. At this point they had to do everything they could to interfere with Benny's progress and take that chip back. "It seems that you should make another trip to the Tops, but this time with more business on the mind than pleasure."

"It seems so, boss. I'll go as soon as I clean up. Its not too late and I think I can catch Swank."

Claire looked ragged, dark circles shadowing her eyes, and a telltale lethargy to the way she moved, indicating it had probably been a while since she'd slept. House considered suggesting that she get some sleep before continuing on, but there was also a staunch determination about her. "Very well. I won't keep you any longer. Report back when you have your answer."

XXX

From the moment that Claire Stokes had been lifted from the cold embrace of death itself she had never seemed to stop moving forward. Not even a week after she had woken in the little town of Goodsprings she was on the road, days later she had quelled the takeover of the city of Primm (something the NCR on the opposite side of the highway had failed – or even cared – to do), and had managed to survive the road to Nipton, where she faced down a high-level member of Caesar's Legion and lived to tell the authorities at the Mojave Outpost. In Novac she had helped uncover a kidnapping plot wrought by a trusted member of the community and took time out of her truth-seeking journey to make a detour to the Repconn Facility where she befriended and aided a strange group of ghouls on a mission to the stars.

In Boulder City she'd finally tracked the last piece of the puzzle about Benny when she caught up with the Kahns that helped grab her. In true Benny style he'd betrayed those that had trusted him and took off, but he'd made a mistake by leaving those men behind to talk. They gave her proof of his wrong-doing and the information to finally track him home. After doing some work in Freeside Claire was finally able to get the money required to pass through onto the Strip. On November 11, exactly one month to the day that she took a bullet for merely carrying a special package, she met the man who had, over two hundred years ago, spurred these events. She met House.

He remembered clearly what it was like to see her step through the doors of the Lucky 38, and would not deny that he felt as much anxiety and anticipation surrounding their meeting that it appeared she did. She had made herself small in the gloom of the hulking ancient building. Childlike and vulnerable she introduced herself – and then apologized for letting her guard down and losing his chip. Shot in the head, almost killed, and she stood there saying how sorry she was she didn't fight back harder. At the time House had thought that perhaps she was just going through the motions, the obligatory apology. As he got to know her he realized that she had meant it. Especially now.

In the last few messages sent between Claire and his alternate persona she had told her tale. It hadn't been in such detail that one would have known the entire story from her telling, for she left some out, down-played much, including claiming that Benny had just "tried to kill her" and completely leaving out the fact she'd endured a bullet to the skull. But House had put together her story with the information he had collected about her and finally her trip across the Mojave was complete. The final summation was that she was an incredible young woman picked up and tossed by the chaos of the Mojave's power struggles, and instead of just collapsing under the burden she had learned to fight back.

Such strength of will was so rare in this world. So when House found himself considering and reconsidering his choice to let her go ahead with her work without stopping for rest he realized it was a curious reaction. Claire was more than capable of taking care of herself, especially in a place like the Strip, and she had no doubt worked on less sleep, but despite his wish to regain his property he also found himself wanting his employee to take care of herself. Was it guilt? In a way he was at fault for her initial injury; he didn't want more harm to come to her in his name because he pushed her harder than she was comfortable or able to handle. In the end he decided that it was her job, one she took quite seriously, and that she would know when she needed to stop.

However, from her obvious intense feelings on personal failure on her part he feared she might lose sight of her own well-being and make illogical choices. He could only hope she kept a clear head.

XXX

Clean! The final bit of dust disappeared down the drain as she rinsed out the tub. It was nice to feel the heaviness of the grime lift off her skin. For a day she'd felt like she was carrying the dark sickness of the Fort around with her. Every dust particle that attached to her there was like some kind of disease, a microbe of despair. She wanted it off. She wrapped one of the fluffiest, whitest towels she could find around her and reveled in its complete antithesis to the filth she had just rid herself of. On her way out of the bathroom she grabbed another and started to dry her hair as quickly as possible.

Her bath had energized her again, leaving her feeling hopeful. The trip to the Fort had not gone the way she had imagined, but it hadn't been a complete failure. She had managed to gain Caesar's trust for the moment, which was a great accomplishment for someone who couldn't fib her way out of a paper bag. At first she had been afraid to admit what she had to do to gain that trust, as if just saying it out loud would make her truly guilty. It had rather eased her mind since House seemed to blow off Caesar's request. If he thought she was going to do something to him he showed no signs of it, and she wasn't going to look. She didn't want to know if he didn't trust her yet.

Ten minutes later she was out the front doors of the Lucky 38 and hurrying over the Tops. Chance wasn't working the door that night, but one of the other Chairmen directed her towards the restaurant where Swank was supposedly having drinks with some of the other guys. Surrounded by fellow Chairmen and their girls Swank was bathed in the glow of brotherhood and camaraderie. Claire paused for a moment just to smile. He always seemed to have a light that shined brightly from his person, and everyone around him basked in it. Even herself. As if sensing her presence Swank lifted his head to look her direction, and when he spotted her he smiled and waved his hand.

He was calling her over, but she just shook her head and indicated that she needed to speak to him in private. A minute later he excused himself from the table and was by her side. "Well, well, I must be one lucky man to see such a sight twice in one week." His fingers ghosted over her cheek and down her jaw line before bending his head to brush a gentle kiss of greeting over her lips.

"Mmm. You might not say that when you hear what I have to say. Is there someplace where we can go?"

Swank's expression melted into a studious one, as if he were figuring out her sudden seriousness. He nodded wordlessly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they exited the restaurant and headed for an area where they could speak without being overheard. "This have something to do with work?" Work being House, of course.

Claire nodded, but waited until he closed a door behind them, locking out the cacophony of the gamblers beyond. "I need to know about Benny."

"Aww, doll. How sad am I that you come here and ask me about another man?" Swank pouted, but there was a faux quality to it. The joke faded when her demeanor did not lighten. "What's going on?"

Claire proceeded to tell him about her trip to the Fort. He already knew that she had been looking for Benny to get that which he had stolen back. "I need to find him, and I need to find him fast. You know him probably better than anyone. Is there anywhere you can think of that he would go to hide out?"

"There are a few places, yeah." Swank looked thoughtful. "I can mark them on your pip-boy for you."

"That would be great." She moved closer and switched to the map screen on the pip-boy. It didn't take long at all for Swank to figure out the layout and begin marking areas for her. Five total, but he pointed out two in particular that might be more likely. Claire tried to concentrate on his words, but it was hard when he was multi-tasking by twining his fingers around the back of her neck and lightly brushing his fingers over the skin there. It was languid, anything but casual. _Damn you._

"I hope that helps." He told her, shooting her a glance out of the corner of his eyes. They danced with a familiar mischief. The warmth of his skin pressed against hers as he nuzzled her neck, lips tracing path to her earlobe. After a playful nip he added, "anything else I can help you with?"

Claire couldn't help but give him a small laugh. "As much as I would love to take you up on this I'm exhausted. I only came over here to see if I could get the information." The urge to touch was too strong and she found her combing her hand through his hair and twisting in his arms, which had somehow found their way around her waist. She was tempted to let him take her right there, let him push away the last remnants of the nightmare that was the Fort. Something kept her from giving in. "I know if I stay I'll be too tired to make it home, and I really need to get some rest."

"You could always stay here. Then again I know you're not too keen on spending the night."

She sighed. "Sorry about that I just –"

"Hey, no worries, babe. It's just a fascinating thing. The stereotype is usually the man sneaking out on the woman, not the other way around. Then again… you do upside down real good." A kiss on her temple and a wink, "you can make it up to me on the trip."

"Huh?"

Swank smirked. "You didn't think I was going to let you go out there hunting Benny by yourself. You're right, I do know him the best, and I know that if he sees you before you see him you just might not come back. If I'm there he'll be less likely to attack, and if he does… I'll put him down like a dog." He sighed, not thrilled about his statement. "Benny has changed into something horrible during his stay here. He didn't use to be like this. He fought our leader to take control so we could have the chance to come here, and now he acts out against House like this." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "Without Mr. House we'd still be running around in Gecko skins poking at things with sharp sticks. We Chairman owe him a lot. _Benny_ owes him a lot."

"I know the feeling." Claire replied seriously. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Go get some sleep, dollface, and I'll catch you in the morning. I just have to make a few arrangements for while I'm away."

"Is eleven o'clock ok for you?" She would suggest earlier, but knew that sometimes Swank was up late taking care of issues in the Tops and she wanted to make sure he got enough sleep.

"Gives me time to grab a quick breakfast and make my rounds. Perfect." He curled his arm around her shoulders again and they walked back into the bustling main area of the Tops. "I'll walk you back to the 38 if you want."

"I'd like that."


	7. Chapter 7

**SwankDoll**: Thanks. I'm really hoping to get some awesome fight scene action going when they finally catch up to him. Especially since so far there's not been much in the story. And I think Swank is really sharp.

**Vect**: Yeah, the Outcasts are more like the Brotherhood than the supposed Brotherhood in 3 is, but they're the ones that said "hey, we want to do what we were sent here to do" and the the others decided to deviate. Nevertheless I don't see them being much better. And what I have to say about the astrology thing: I know, right! Also, I think House's kind of emotionally repressed. After what happened to his parents and his brother being a dick he probably just shut off.

**Whatshisface**: -long pause- LOL. That was probably the best image I had all day. I don't think I'll look at Swank or hear the phrase "ring a ding" the same way ever again.

**KatrinaJG**: Same. About the way I play the game. And sometimes I use Black Widow, sometimes I don't. I like to shake things up a bit now and then. I understand your feelings on Swank. Silly Claire! I have plans for Swank though. He's important in many different ways. Some subtle, some not so much. But when Benny is caught gears will probably shift for a while and really start concentrating on House and Claire more since she doesn't have to worry with finding the chip anymore.

**Jaeir**...: I amen your amen. Wait... can I do that? We'll say I can. Thanks. I think that sometimes its the obstacles two people have to face that make them realize (when they get over themselves) how well they really compliment each other. And I hate perfect characters. I don't remember if i said this before (and too lazy to go check) but I think much of the time one of the most important points in a story is how a character evolves. Without some kind of character growth whats the point of the journey? Nobody is perfect, and that's what makes people interesting. Oh, YesMan... he will be in here, eventually. But probably not in any way considered before. The conversation with Raul? Hehe. It actually made me raise my eyebrow a bit. I won't go into too much detail about what I think on this, mostly because it will be addressed at some point in the story and I don't want to start rambling (which I know I will, for I am prone to do that) but it is a consideration within the spectrum of their relationship. I know there are others, but House stands out to me being one of the biggest characters the game writers kept throwing tidbits at you just to say, "yeah, this guy's kinda... odd." Probably the reason I like him so much. As for Claire, and many of my other couriers, even if I never tell the entire backstory I usually know their past pretty well. I find that it's what's in someone's past that makes them who they are, and as a writer if you don't know their history then you can't know who your character really is, what motivates them. Anthony. Yes. Claire will find out about him and what happened, although I don't know if it will be because of a trip to H&H or if House will tell her himself.

**Note to all**, I have pictures of our darling Claire on my blog now if you want to know what she looks like. I got her pretty close to the way I imagine her in my head. Now... on to the story!

* * *

><p><strong>A Terminal Affair<strong>

**7**

**From: Terminal 292-A**

**To: (Blocked Location)**

**Subject: Good News**

**Remember that guy that tried to kill me? I might be catching up with him again soon. This time it will be both business and pleasure when I find him. Before I was willing to let him go. Weeks of pursuing him had cooled my anger with him over what had happened, but since he tried to screw me over again I'm done being forgiving. He's crossed lines he never should have. He betrayed our boss, he's tried (twice) to kill me, and now he thinks he can just take what he's stolen and use it against us, and at this point it **_**is**_** US. **

**It sounds horrible but sometimes I imagine what it would be like to take the gun he pointed at my head and return the favor. There's a terrible beast inside me that just wants him to feel the fear I felt, understand the same desolation, the helplessness of having his fate taken out of his control and put into someone else's hands. But… I'm not that kind of person. I thought those thoughts before and I didn't kill him and I won't kill him now. I just want him to be brought to some sort of justice. I want to take away his ability to do any more harm to anyone. I've met so many greedy people in my lifetime; he's one of the worst.**

**I just wanted to tell you about this before I headed off. I don't know how long I'll be gone this time. It could be a week, or less, or more, but I won't stop until I find him this time. It ends now. Take care.**

Claire was preparing to leave for her extended trip as House read her latest message. In the upper corner of his screen he watched her shuffle around her suite, rummaging through items, packing away those she deemed useful, and underneath all of the order he saw the chaos. He had gotten good at seeing the storms that brewed below surface level in people no mater how much control they tried to hold over themselves. The Courier had learned how to hide herself from the outside world, and fairly well – but not good enough to fool him. He didn't blame her really for this situation. She seemed to be taking everything a lot more seriously – or perhaps that wasn't the proper terminology, for it wasn't that she hadn't taken it seriously before, rather more like she had underestimated her opponent. Now she was armed with more wisdom, experience through previous failures with Benny.

It also seemed like she was starting to also take it personally. Sure, Benny kept saying that it wasn't personal, that it was just business, but to people like Claire a bullet to the head, a few false words, _deception_, wasn't just business. House came back to insistence that it was now an issue that was "theirs" and not just House's problem anymore, which contrasted intensely with her statement a few days prior during their heated argument. At that time it seemed she didn't give a rat's ass how this play ended. Perhaps she had told a fury-fueled lie.

The picture she painted in her revenge fantasy was a clear one, and he was sure that she was filtering it even as she wrote to him. She was the kind of person that didn't want others to know the dark parts that dwelled within. House would have bet money that there was an even more violent wish behind that which she had finally typed. He understood this, too, probably more than most, and was relieved that she refused to give in to such impulses no matter how tempting it would be to put Benny through hell.

It was something that had crossed his mind as well, yet had been quickly dashed for he also knew that revenge was a slippery slope. Take one person down and that urge to do so to others that wrong you grew like some malignant cancer in the mind. He had spent much of his adult life nursing a deep hatred for who most would have called his nemesis, Anthony. His brother in blood and nothing more. No, it hadn't taken over every moment of his days, not like it had Anthony, but it was certainly up there on his priority list as his company – and his influence, his _power_ – grew. In the end Anthony had been driven over the edge by his own hatred and insanity, and Robert had been more than willing to oblige to help him. He'd even _enjoyed_ it.

Even hundreds of years later he could still remember the immense ecstasy of watching Anthony's fall from what little grace and dignity he still possessed, knowing that it was mostly his doing. Once upon a time Anthony had tried to control Robert's destiny by ripping away every iota of inheritance he might have had, so he had come without mercy when he was time for him to become the puppet master. He had danced Anthony right off his self-imposed throne and into oblivion.

Shit. He still felt the same now as he did then. Remorseless. Cold. Triumphant. Like Claire's journey to find Benny, House's quest to undo Anthony had been anything but just business. When one tried to take away your life, literally _or_ figuratively, it always became something more, something tangible. It was rather sad really how people like Anthony and Benny were willing to steamroll over their victims with thoughts of false impunity when really they were sowing the very seeds of their own destruction. Maybe not then, but eventually, all men who took advantage of others in these ways would have to face some brand of justice.

Karma was indeed a bitch.

For Benny's sake he had better hope Claire was feeling particularly merciful when she found him. At this point House couldn't care less how it all ended as long as his chip, and his employee (the Courier), was returned to him.

XXX

The sun was unusually bright as Claire emerged from the Lucky 38, travel bag slung over her shoulders. She stopped to watch the passersby, and marveled at how oblivious they all were that their world could have potentially changed very drastically if one man had his way. From experience she knew most people didn't plan for transformation, and did everything they could to ignore any sign that it might be on its way. When they couldn't ignore it they shone a spotlight on it. The latter was the explanation she had assigned to why so many were fascinated, obsessed even, with the thought that she had walked right into the Lucky 38 her first day on the strip. Even when faced with such obvious change they still refused to see something bigger was happening behind the scenes.

Those that did see it were potential dangers depending upon their own desires. Transitional periods were always the most vulnerable and a smart individual would seize this chance like a predator would a weak animal. And New Vegas _was_ a weak animal. This was of no fault of House's. In fact, if it wasn't for him Vegas would have been taken already. As of now the vultures circles, but their time was running out. As soon as that chip was back in her hands, back in House's possession the stakes would change. Benny was the last real obstacle to progressing Vegas into something greater. It would be a catastrophe if he were to try to take control. He had no idea how to deal with the NCR, or the Legion. Power was nothing if you couldn't hold onto it. He was like a child playing with his father's gun, and if he wasn't careful he was going to shoot himself with it.

Glances turned in her direction. Feeling uncomfortable she hurried down the steps and toward the Tops. She was early, and she didn't expect Swank to be ready to go yet, but she couldn't just sit around anymore. If she thought anymore about what they were about to do her nervousness was going to fry her brain. She wasn't much of a drinker, especially this early, but it was looking pretty good right now. Perhaps she'd have the bartender mix up her favorite while she waited and by the time the two of them got on the road she'd feel more relaxed.

Chance was chatting up some girl when she entered, but he took the time to tip his hat to her. She returned the gesture with a smile and walked right passed the front counter; they didn't stop her to search for weapons anymore. Somewhere to her right she heard Swank's singular voice and she turned his way. He, too, was engaged in conversation, but unlike Chance it wasn't some pretty girl, but another Chairman. Wanting to get on the road as soon as possible she didn't interrupt, even when he spotted her. She made a motion indicating she was heading to the bar and disappeared into the crowd.

Claire dropped her bag beside her as she ordered her drink and leaned back in her chair. It wasn't very busy at the Tops at this hour, but that didn't mean it was dead. A few of the other chairman were at a table across the room goofing around, and some patrons were scattered about nursing their own drinks or food. By the time her drink came she hadn't even noticed she'd started twitching her leg anxiously again. It took a queer look from the waiter for her to realize she was doing it and promptly stopped.

Yeah, this drink was completely necessary.

She thanked him and took her first sip, thinking back to that last message she had received just minutes before she was out the door. As nervous as she felt it had made her smile and lighten her mood. Just two words.

**Be careful.**

It made her feel better because now she had a reason to come back other than her duty to her job, and those with someone or something waiting for them always had a better chance at succeeding. Right?

XXX

The knob on Claire's pip-boy spun as she checked everything over. The locales Swank had marked on her map blinked teasingly up at her; almost as if they knew that possibly somewhere amongst them Benny was hiding. She pressed her lips together tightly while considering what would be the best travel course, fingernail tapping over the screen she studied. The plan was beginning to come into focus right as a hand fell onto her shoulder, dexterous fingers squeezing. It was a gentle, almost playful grip, but her first reaction was to panic.

"Whoa, babe, calm down." Swank held her shoulders as she nearly jumped out of her seat, her chest heaving.

"Christ, Swank, you scared me."

The man slipped into the seat next to her, hand slipping down her arm to grasp hers. The reassuring presence of his fingers entwined along with hers helped calm her a bit as his other hand brushed through her hair. "Didn't mean to. I thought you probably heard me. You're really worked up about this, aren't you?"

"Man tried to kill me." There was no need for further explanation to him. If he didn't understand her feelings on the matter from _that_ then she didn't care to elaborate. He leaned over and found her lips with a kiss that told her he got it.

"Not much of a man, doll." Swank told her honestly. Benny had been his friend for a long time, however, that loyalty vanished the second he found out what he had been planning under his nose all along. He wasn't happy about what he was going to do, even more upset that Benny didn't feel it necessary to confide in him. Then again Benny probably knew Swank wouldn't have approved and would have tried to stop him. He certainly wouldn't have allowed him to track down some innocent girl and put a bullet through her head like some savage. Apparently you could take the man out of the tribe, but you couldn't take the tribe out of the man.

"Nothin' like you, right, babe?" She gave him a weak, but genuine smile.

He chuckled and squeezed her hand, "right." Although he wasn't sure if that was the truth. Whether he wanted to see it or not he and Benny had been tailored from the same cloth. All the same he would have never pulled what Benny was trying, not in a million years. Perhaps that was all the difference.

Claire reached over with her free hand and plucked her drink off the table. "You all ready to go?"

"As I'll ever be. I just have to run upstairs and change out of this suit into something more wastes appropriate and I'll be right down." Swank reluctantly lifted himself from his chair, hand still clasped around hers. He offered her a smile and a kiss on the forehead before letting her go. "Don't worry about a thing, Claire. We'll get Benny back here, and I promise I won't let him hurt you."

XXX

Not even five minutes outside the gates of Freeside they'd already found trouble, of course this trouble was jet-fueled and racing at them like a speeding train that somehow managed to hop its tracks. Fiends. Claire hated to think bad thoughts about other human beings (no matter how much logic told her many of them were shit), but she couldn't find it in herself to think of them more than animals. The fact they were like coyotes, or any other similar pest, in the way that they were only dangerous in packs, but if you had one alone it was little more than target practice. She aimed her rifle at the laser gun slinging foe and took him down in two shots. The first shattered his kneecap, the second was the kill shot, straight through the heart.

Swank sheathed the large combat knife in his hand as the fiend skidded across the cracked pavement. "Nice shot."

"Didn't get this far on my good looks alone." She winked at him, likewise holstering her weapon of choice.

"Although I'm sure you could make even a deathclaw pause, darling." Claire wasn't what one would call glamorous. She didn't wear fancy clothes, didn't come from privilege, and she wasn't the type of woman to style her hair or waste time on frivolous trimmings like make-up. Her beauty was a subtle one, all soft curves and hidden elegance. When she spoke she crushed the vagabond façade most pegged her for and it was always hard to guess her age from her features. Her round eyes were the most intense deep blue, nose diminutive but pert, and lips were small and plump. Those were his favorite feature if one might happen to ask. All of this was arranged carefully in almost perfect proportion on an irrevocably eternal child-like face. Her allure came mostly from an inner charisma though. It drew people. In honesty she was the girl next door. And in the Mojave even the girl next door was a gun-toting force to be reckoned with.

Kneeling next to her kill she searched the fiend's body for anything useful. Some ammo, a few empty jet inhalers, and a stimpak was about it. "Hey Swank, you ever get tired of that snazzy armor you got maybe you'll put something like this on." She commented, nodding suggestively to the barely there patchwork of leather and odds and ends that had formed the fiend's outfit. "All that leather might look good on you."

"I'll keep that in mind, but I think I'll leave the leather straps for the bedroom."

"Naughty boy." Claire tsked, rising to her feet.

Swank smirked and rested his arm across her shoulders as they continued on. "Remind me later and I'll show you just how much."

"Focus, Casanova." She punched him playfully in the chest.

"You're the boss."

Seeing her out in her element was reassuring. Her confidence had returned the second she stepped outside the walls of New Vegas, almost as if it had been the reason for her insecurity. Maybe the pressure of civilization hemmed her in, made her nervous. He understood that. Now though she was fine and he was getting a good feeling about this trip. And he had a nice right hook waiting for Benny when they finally found him.


End file.
